Wooing Kate
by kasey8473
Summary: When Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate, she flees from him. Chapter twenty-three uploaded: Kate and Adhemar go home. Complete
1. Chapter One

Title: Wooing Kate

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate woke to a horrible pounding in her head, a sour taste in her mouth and the disturbing sensation of a naked man beside her. The disturbing part wasn't that she had a naked man beside her, but rather that she couldn't remember doing anything requiring a naked man. She scrunched her eyes shut even tighter, endeavoring to make sense of her memories from the previous night. There wasn't much. She remembered drinking with Wat and feeling rather friendly towards him. He hadn't noticed, too busy scarfing down any food within arms reach. They'd had a quarrel about his eating, but after that was a huge blur. She couldn't even remember leaving the tavern. Had they resolved their argument and he'd responded to her overtures?

An arm wrapped about her waist, pulling her intimately close to that male form, the hand on her stomach. Kate's eyes popped open, her disorientation clearing fast upon seeing a room instead of a tent before her eyes. She scanned the visible portion, almost afraid to turn over and see the man she was with. There were clothes in a jumble on the floor, saddlebags by the chair and a tray on the table, but nothing to give her an idea of this man. Gulping, she peered at the hand on her stomach. The fingers were lax, the crest on the ring one she recognized with a sinking sensation in her belly. 

Adhemar. A tiny moan left her. This was even worse than Wat. At least with him she could go back to ignoring his attentions and handing him food to pacify him. Count Adhemar was another thing entirely. Already she could feel guilt rising within her. She'd gone to bed with Will's enemy.

"God help me," she whispered, easing herself out from under the heavy weight of his arm and pawing through the pile of clothes on the floor for her dress and shift. Her hands trembled and her breath came in shallow pants. Calm down, she thought. Breathe.

"Going so soon, Kate?" The voice was sleepy, tinged with the arrogance that defined the man.

She pulled on her shift, glancing over her shoulder, her dress gathered in her arms. Her own voice didn't want to work, her throat stubbornly closed. He ran a hand through his hair and sat up, casting an amused stare her way.

"It's not quite morning yet. At least stay for morning." His gaze seemed to burn through her, taking in her fear and the awkwardness of her pose, her crouch on the floor. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. "What's a few more hours?" Satisfaction curled about his words in loving embrace. If she'd been dense enough to not realize what had gone in in this room before, she certainly knew now. He cocked a brow, raising one knee and resting his elbow on it as he considered her.

Kate had the sudden impression that if she stayed he would devour her and there would be nothing left of her to leave. If she didn't leave now, there was no way she'd ever be able to escape him. "N-no." Hurriedly, she pulled the dress on, her fingers fumbling with the task, clumsy on the familiar fastenings.

He shifted position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and tossing the covers away. "And just where do you think you're going?" A patronizing smile tugged at his lips. Lips she now remembered traveling her body.

His cold stare was almost hypnotic, Kate shaking her head. Panic began to rise in a steady climb within her. The longer he was awake, the more dangerous he seemed. Run, her mind screamed at her. "Away," she whispered, more to prod herself into action than in answer of his question. 

"Take that off and come back here. I've not given you leave to go."

Kate forced herself to stand and step on shaking legs to the door, ignoring his imperious command.

"You don't leave until I say you do." His tone was icy, angry.

She didn't see anything else of hers scattered on the floor, but she wasn't entirely sure she'd recognize anything of hers at this point. All she could think about was leaving this room. He wouldn't come after her naked would he? Kate didn't know and didn't care. All she wanted was to be away from him and the scene of her crime. "You can't order me," she whispered softly. "I'm a free woman."

He gave a snort, shoulders lifting and falling. "You're a peasant. Open that door, Kate and you will regret it." He didn't give idle threats, she knew that, but she couldn't stop herself from lifting the bar. There was no way she could force herself to remain there with him. No, Kate decided. She wasn't going to let him bully her. She wasn't going to willingly toss off her clothes and crawl back into bed with him. The shame of what she'd apparently done the previous night caused a burning flush to stain her cheeks, she could feel the scorching heat there.

"Kate." He stood, moving towards her with a speed that surprised her. It was as though he didn't realize he was naked. He doesn't care he is, her mind drawled. She was strangely disconnected, like a passive observer. Her hands found the handle of the door and she threw the panel wide. There was the barest tug of her dress back towards him before he lost his grip on her. She ran past the startled men that stood there in the hall, not glancing back to see if he followed. Kate ran like the devil himself was after her.

~~~~~~~~~~

"My lord Adhemar! You cannot follow her."

Adhemar found his way after the maid barred by two of his men. With a snarl, he punched the nearest one. The farris wasn't going to get away from him so easily, not after he'd sampled her and found her to be sweet. "Out of my way." His hand curled in the other man's shirt, fist raising again to hit, when Germaine turned the corner, slowing his stride, his startled expression giving way to a placating one.

"My lord, perhaps you should dress before pursuing her."

Adhemar stared at the man, than nodded, releasing the man he had a grip on, shoving him back with such force that the man lost his footing and fell against the wall of the passage. "You know where to find her? Where she is staying? London is no tiny hamlet."

"She'll be easy to locate, my lord." Since Germaine's smile indicated he already knew that tidbit of information, Adhemar thought perhaps he'd dress before finding her after all.

"Then get on it. I want information in one hour."

Germaine's head bowed in acceptance of the order. Had Adhemar bothered to glance back, he would have seen intense dislike reflected upon his herald's face. He didn't though, entering his chamber and slamming the door with such force that dust fell from the braces at the ceiling.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're leaving?"

Kate tossed her belongings into her bag, uncaring that they were in a jumble. She had no time to waste, giving Roland the barest of glances. "Aye."

"Why?" She could feel his stare upon her, searching. "You were all set to stay, to set up shop once Will and the Lady Jocelyn are married. What's changed your mind?"

Staying was impossible. She had a feeling Adhemar wouldn't let her slip away so easily. He'd been stayed, only barely, by the sense of propriety his men held. Likely, he was searching for her right now. No peasant dared to leave before he told him he could and Kate had done the stupidest thing imaginable by fleeing, though it had been sheer panic spurring her.

The remembrance of his body beside hers as she'd woken caused her belly to churn with sharp pains and a trembling to encase her entire body. In a sudden movement, Roland came forward, hands grasping her arms, turning her to face him. The guilt she felt must have been plain in her eyes, for he gave her a look of mock admonishment.

"What did you do, Kate? Sheer Lady Jocelyn's hair from her head while she slept? Lock Wat in a privy?"

She shook her head, lips parting, unable to look away from him. It crossed her mind that, out of all the group, Roland would be the most sympathetic. He was the voice of reason, of sense, tempered with gentle humor so that no reprimand hurt. "Much worse. I've done much, much worse."

His gaze turned concerned as he realized the full severity of the situation. She wasn't fleeing from the anger of a stupid prank. He understood that. She was fleeing from something that could effect them all. "How worse?"

Reaching up, she pulled the heavy mass of her long, still tangled hair from her neck and inched the shoulder of her dress down, revealing the telltale marks Adhemar had left on her pale skin.

"Tell me Will didn't make those."

"Wasn't Will."

"Wat?"

"Wasn't Wat."

"God's blood, Kate, I sincerely hope you didn't bed down with Geoff with his wife right here in London."

She shook her head. "No, not Geoff either."

"Then who are you talking about, because I know _I_ didn't give you those."

Her chest tightened, breath a wheezing. "Adhemar. I woke in his bed not an hour ago."

There was silence for several heartbeats before Roland swallowed and asked in a whisper, "He didn't give you leave to go, did he, Kate?"

"No." She dropped her gaze from his. "So you see, I can't stay."

Roland released her. "But you'd run and leave us all to bear the brunt of his anger when he can't find you? You know he'll come here and start something with Will and that boy is in no shape to fight Adhemar again. You know that."

Kate flinched. "But I can't stay. I can't march back to his room and his bed, Roland."

"You did it once, didn't you? This'll bring more trouble on us and we don't need it right now."

"What am I supposed to do? What would you have me do? Play the whore with Adhemar?"

The man paused, head nodding, and Kate thought that perhaps she'd gone mad. Roland couldn't be telling her to go back to Adhemar, could he? But he was and a part of her could understand why. The fights between Will and Adhemar had gone on for months. Roland was sick of it and by leaving, Kate would be starting a new fight. Adhemar would take out his frustration on all of them before continuing after her. "Until he tires of you. He'll leave us alone."

"That won't be necessary." A voice from the doorway said and Kate and Roland both turned. Adhemar's herald stood there. "I can help you, if you like...Kate."

What sort of help was he offering, Kate wondered, curiosity piqued.

"Let me explain, and quickly. We've not much time." He closed the door, and Kate and Roland listened. 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: 2

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: A thank-you to those who've left reviews so far. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Going to the window, Count Adhemar watched the street as he did up the closures of his shirt, then coat, moving with speed and uncaring the clothes he'd pulled on were wrinkled and not fresh. He was far more concerned with finding the peasant wench who'd had the audacity to run from him than he was about his clothing. If he didn't find her now, then he'd have to waste time having Thatcher's band watched. Running a hand through his hair instead of digging out a comb from his trunk, he watched with interest when Germaine appeared in the street.

It had certainly taken the man long enough to move from the upstairs of the inn to the outer door, but that wasn't suspicious. No, he'd likely stopped to order food sent up or perhaps water for his lord to wash with. Adhemar rested his hands on the window frame, peering down at the street. Germaine paused outside, looking around, then crossed to the other side and entered the Red Pony Inn two doors down. Adhemar waited. The man would be back out the door in a few seconds, a minute at the most, and on his way to the next inn in the line of them that were along this street, continuing his search.

He didn't return and Adhemar left the window, opening his door and calling the man outside to him. "Germaine is at the Red Pony down the street. Take Thomas, Adam and Richard and see where he goes." The man hurried off to obey the command, Adhemar closing the door and pacing.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Germaine. He did, as much as he trusted anyone at all. The man had been a loyal servant to his house for years. Germaine had remained loyal, a friend of sorts if Adhemar counted any man as a friend. He rarely spoke out in protest of anything and carried out his duties with an enviable efficiency. However, on the subject of the delectable Kate, he wasn't taking any chances of not having her again. He'd have Germaine followed just in case Thatcher put up a fuss over the farris.

Adhemar doubted the man would say too much once it was revealed Kate went willingly. He suspected she'd told a tale of her being the victim, snatched from the street by cruel Count Adhemar. She'd try for sympathy, like the typical women. He had her figured out. True, she was unlike other women, but she couldn't be _that_ terribly different. She was still a female.

Dropping into the chair and propping his feet on the table, he closed his eyes, allowing the memory of her to slip across the closed lids. It had been too easy to coax her into the room. A woman on the other side of tipsy was usually an easy conquest and Kate no exception in that regard. She'd put up the token protest and just when he'd thought perhaps he'd misjudged her level of inebriation, she'd given in in the most delightful way. He had the tiniest ache along his backside from their combined weight toppling onto the floor with a thud. He'd had women jump on him before, but never one with enough enthusiasm to send him crashing to the floor with her on top of him.

A lusty woman was one to keep and she was delightfully lusty and uninhibited in her surrender. It was a refreshing change from prostitutes whose moans had a fake tone and from mistresses who played up to him to get little tokens of appreciation from him for their attentions. The former didn't care what he did as long as they got paid and the latter also didn't care as long as they got paid a better quality fee than the former. Mistresses worked hard at games and teasing, ensuring trinkets would always be quick in coming.

Kate was neither. She wasn't working on her back for money and wasn't interested in being his mistress, if her flight from the room was any indication. This only made her more desirable. She was obviously not the full average woman. She was also the cleanest peasant woman he'd seen in a long while.

He looked forward to many hours dallying with her in the future. He also looked forward to watching Kate push his greedy Helene off of the pedestal she'd placed herself on. Out with the old mistress, he thought, lacing his hands together behind his head. In with the delightfully new. Kate was going to be his mistress, whether she wanted to or not.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now that Kate had flown, it was up to Roland to explain to Will, Wat, Geoff, Christiana and Jocelyn the why of it. Germaine had assured him -- and Kate-- that Count Adhemar would not start a fight with Will as long as he thought none of them knew of her flight. So, Roland had to remain silent until after the man had come and gone. All Roland was to say if asked was that he'd seen Kate run down the hall carrying her bag. She hadn't stopped to talk.

He could stay silent. He'd done that bit before, but he couldn't bite back the guilt at what he'd told Kate to do. Go back to Adhemar. Lord, man, he thought. You're daft if you think she'll be forgiving you anytime soon for that. Kate's stare as she'd left with Germaine hadn't been friendly in the slightest. In fact, if looks could kill, he'd have been dead instantly. He couldn't really blame her though. Of course, what had she been doing bedding the man to begin with? She must have been falling over drunk to go with him.

Pushing the door to Will's room open, he found the others already waiting, Christiana slapping Wat's hands away from the large tray of food on the table and Jocelyn and Will gazing at each other with sickening sweetness. Roland couldn't say a teasing word about that though, since he was hardly able to look at Christiana without a goofy grin forming. Geoff was slouched down in a chair, his eyes closed, apparently asleep if his even breaths were any indication.

"It's about time. I'm starving," Wat complained, making an outraged noise as Christiana once more slapped his hands.

Geoff jerked awake at Wat's yelp, rubbing a hand over his face and sitting up. "I'm not sleeping."

"Not yet, Wat. We wait for Kate now. Stop thinking of your stomach." Christiana gently admonished. Roland managed a smile as his lady love kept the always hungry Wat from devouring the food. She was as much a prize to him as Jocelyn was to Will.

Will glanced away from Jocelyn. "Where is Kate? Roland, why don't you peek in her room and see if she's awake?"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes, which room _is_ Kate's?" Adhemar gave a cold little smile, enjoying how the group scrambled to their feet with gasps, the tall skinny herald holding back that psychotic redhead with hands on his arms. An irritated tic pulled at his left eye as Lady Jocelyn put herself behind her lover, the irritating William Thatcher. If they weren't lovers, then he'd slit his own throat, for their manner intimated they knew each other rather personally. However, as much as he'd like revenge upon the boy, he had a different priority in the present. The scent of Kate, lavender and fresh, was in his nostril and he'd not stop looking for her until he'd sniffed her out. "Her room?"

"Why do you care?" The boy kept his voice steady, his expression neutral, speaking for them all. "Did she do something for you?"

"In a manner of speaking." Thatcher meant work, but yes, Kate had certainly done something for him. He couldn't stop his smile from widening, which of course made the boy suspicious.

"And what manner would that be?" Thatcher shook his arm free from Jocelyn and stepped forward, almost even with the peasant man by the doorway.

"The end of the hall. She's at the end." The bearded man blurted out and Adhemar turned his head slightly to consider him, dismissing the man as quickly as he'd glanced at him. Only a peasant man. No one of consequence. 

Disappointment pricked at him that the location of her room was given out so quickly. He'd anticipated possibly torturing someone for the information. Oh well. Perhaps another day.

Turning, he tread to the room and threw open the door without knocking. Wouldn't want to give her time to climb out the window or something equally as foolish, like grabbing up the fire poker thinking she could brain him with it. The room was empty. It looked as though Kate had left in a hurry. Adhemar pursed his lips. Germaine hadn't left the building and a search of the lower rooms had not yielded him or the girl, so he'd expected to find Germaine with her, attempting to reason with her. He wasn't there. Adhemar tapped the sides of his thighs with his fingertips, a frown pulling at his brow. Really, this was becoming irksome.

As he stepped back into the hall, one of his men came from the direction of the stairs, red faced and gasping for breath. "My lord! The stables! Germaine is with her."

The Thatcher band was peering out their door, all faces unapologetically curious and Adhemar stopped briefly before them on his way past their door. "If she returns here, send for me. You won't like the consequences if you don't." One of them shouted something at his back, shushed by the others, but Adhemar wasn't listening. Kate was running from him and he wasn't going to let her.

Adhemar strode to the stairs and down them, making his way through the crowded tables to the front door and then out into the street, shoving people out of his way, his thoughts pondering Germaine's actions. What was Germaine up to? Could he possibly be _defying_ his lord and master? A snort left him. Unthinkable. Why ever would a good servant be so stupid? It wasn't like him to disobey, to presume to think for himself.

At the stables, he was once more presented with the news that Kate and Germaine had gone. With a roll of his eyes, he snapped a punch at the man who'd given the news, getting no satisfaction as the man fell, clutching his nose with a howl. "Saddle my horse, you idiots. I want to be after her immediately!" A rush of temper flared through him, boiling beneath his skin. "I want her by nightfall."

~~~~~~~~~~

A narrow escape was something Kate was regrettably becoming quite familiar with. That Germaine was willing to actually ride with her on her escape from his lord was a surprise. She'd never expected the herald to suggest helping her in that manner. She'd thought he'd turn her over to the man in a second, but he'd outlined a plan to head south towards France together, having a large purse in his possession to pay for expenses. Kate thought he'd stolen the money from Adhemar. Either that or he'd been hiding it away in preparation for escape some day.

He wanted to live for himself and not another man, he'd said, and she needed help quick. He'd help her leave London and go where she wanted, even if it meant altering his half- formed plan, doubling back and going to Scotland. To Kate and Roland, he'd painted a beautiful picture of no Adhemar and no threat of the man to Will. His lord, he'd said, wouldn't expect his loyal herald to run away. He'd not believe it at first and would waste time thinking on the why.

However, Adhemar hadn't trusted Germaine as much as the herald had thought. Three of Adhemar's men had found them in the stable just as they were riding out, Germaine giving a curse that was rather impressive in intensity. They'd left London as quickly as possible.

"Do you need rest?"

"No," she replied. They'd been traveling the entire day, hiding as other travelers passed them by. "You should go back, Germaine. I'll be fine alone. I was alone for a long time before meeting Will and the others."

He shook his head, a strange look on his face, one of sadness and regret. His impetuous decision was heavy on his shoulders and it showed. "I can't go back. By now he's realized I meant all the while to leave and he's wondering why I chose you to go with me. Am I a rival of sorts? He means to have you, Kate."

"He's already done that," she remarked wryly.

"You know my meaning. He's chosen you and like all the others, he won't back down until he has you stuck to him." He sighed. "My lord likes beautiful women."

"I'm no beauty," Kate chuckled. "I'm plain and know it. He only wants me because I didn't accept his mastery over me. I left before he told me I could. That's all." His expression held incredulity, enough so that she looked back at the road. "What? You're staring."

His laugh was much like hers had been. "You are modest, Kate."

Modest? If he wanted to think so then fine. She gave a small sigh, one under her breath that he wouldn't hear. To spend the rest of her life running from Adhemar wasn't what she wanted to do. She wanted to stay with Will and the others, those dear friends she'd made. But, as long as Adhemar wanted her, he'd keep them watched in case she returned. Hell, she suspected he'd take her even if he decided he didn't want her anymore. The big bad noble had to show the peasant woman she was beneath him in class. He'd bully her if he could. If she let him. Kate didn't like being bullied.

Actually, she wasn't running per se. She was embarking on a new adventure, one that just happened to have Adhemar at the onset. She rolled her eyes. Who was she trying to kid anyway? She _was_ running, no ifs ands or buts about it. This was the consequence of her actions, a life without her friends and constant flight.

To distract herself from morose thoughts, she tendered a query to the man riding beside her. "Why did you decide to leave, Germaine? What made you help me?"

"Stars," was his answer. "Change your stars. Sir Thatcher said that. He said it and he did it. So, I decided to wait a bit and see about changing my stars as well. Oh, I don't mean make myself more than what I am, but rather to embrace life and try to be free. I told you I want to live for myself and not another man." He glanced at her. "Did you know that I have always served Count Adhemar?" 

At her negative, he continued. "The earliest memory I have is of being in that household, learning heraldry and being his sparring partner. I was one of several playmates, so to speak, all boys from various backgrounds sent there to learn with the young master. I have never been my own man, if you understand what I mean by that."

"Your life is devoted to his, not to yours."

He nodded. "Exactly."

They rode on in silence as the afternoon sun began to sink to the ground with evening, a glorious riot of red, orange and purple painting the horizon. 


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Three

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Thank you again to those who have reviewed. Your comments are greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Adhemar had gone, Wat yelling a rude retort after him, all eyes turned to Roland. Will closed the door, giving him a serious expression that Roland thought privately was improper for his face. Will's face was better suited for smiles and laughter than anything else. Roland was the serious one, Will the optimist and Wat....Well, Wat was something else. What that was, Roland was still trying to figure out. "What?" He wished he could avoid having to tell Kate's tale and his part in her flight.

"Care to elaborate on Kate and our visitor, Roland?"

He considered the question with the gravest of sincerity. "What's my other option?"

Will blinked. "Roland."

A glance at the others showed them all keenly interested in his answer. Hell, he thought. Why couldn't that man have not come here after her? "Kate's gotten herself in a muddle."

"The sort of muddle with Adhemar involved is highly serious. He's not a man for anyone to cross." Geoff returned to his chair, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Kate knows better than to do anything for him."

Roland ran a hand along his neck, massaging the slowly tightening muscles. This was going to be a long morning. Jocelyn and Christiana were sitting on the edge of the bed, Wat digging in to the platter that everyone had lost interest in and Will was still standing staring at him in expectation. "She don't when she's drunk."

Silence. Then Christiana said, "Kate was drunk and she...what? She went with him?"

"Sort of."

"She either did or she didn't." Will crossed his arms, frowning now.

Roland sighed. He'd rather sink into mud and die than explain. "Kate went to bed with him and fled before he told her she could go. Germaine came a bit ago and she left with him. He's running away as well."

"Kate confided in you?" Jocelyn asked.

Now was the hard part. Now he had to admit that he'd told Kate not to run, told her to go back and be a whore for the man so he'd leave the rest of them alone. God help him, he didn't want to admit it. Roland nodded. He'd blurt it out, just let the words fall from his tongue. Don't think about it, man. Say it and maybe they won't blame you. "I told her she should return to him." There, that wasn't so terribly bad.

Silence again. Painful, gut-wrenching silence. No, it wasn't bad, it was horrible. 

Christiana's gaze turned so icy that Roland shivered in response. She raised a brow and pasted a little, cool smile upon her lips. "Did you just admit to telling Kate to go back to that man?"

He could foresee many long, lonely nights on the horizon if her expression was any indication. He could kiss being anywhere near her bed goodbye. The temperature in the room had gotten suddenly colder. "I did."

She gave an outraged snort, getting up and turning her back to him. Jocelyn's expression was equally outraged and both Geoff and Will's mouths were open as they stared in disbelief. Wat on the other hand, seemed disgusted, but not at Roland.

"Kate and Adhemar? Oh _ick_."

"Don't give me those looks, all of you. We don't need more trouble and you know that. You'd have done the same in my place." In desperation, wildly rationalizing, he turned to Jocelyn. It wasn't like she'd become bosom friends with Kate. "Lady Jocelyn, you'd have tossed her into his arms as long as it meant you'd stay free of him."

"Don't even presume to think what I'd do, Roland." Jocelyn was quick to reply. "I'd not hand over a friend to that man, no matter the consequences. You did simply that. You told her to go back and be his...his..._toy_. Such insensitivity is unlike you."

"Since when is Kate _your_ friend? You've not talked with her for any length of time that I've noticed." A valid question, but perhaps one he shouldn't have uttered. He was beginning to become very good at shoving his feet in his mouth today. Christiana whirled, stormed by him and out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Not prudent, my good man," Geoff muttered on his way to the door, pausing only to pat Roland's back in apparent sympathy.

"She came to you for counsel and you betrayed her." Jocelyn was furious, expression twisting with her anger.

"How did I betray her? She should have stayed where she was and left when he'd finished with her." 

Jocelyn's face flushed and Will stepped between them. "Enough. Jocelyn, calm down."

"I will not calm down," she spat out. "Kate is out there without a friend right now, running from Adhemar. From _Adhemar_. And Roland --"

"Roland was trying to protect the rest of us." His hands grasped her shoulders, squeezing.

"Going about it the wrong way!"

Roland looked away from Will soothing his lady. Wat still ate, his bites slow. Going to the table, Roland joined him, snatching up a piece of bread and nibbling at it. He listened with half an ear as Will defended him. Telling Kate to go back had made sense at the time. It still made sense. It made _perfect_ sense to him. If Kate had stayed there, or gone back, then the man wouldn't look their way. He hadn't been as sensitive as usual, he'd agree on that, but Kate was a grown woman, not a girl. She hadn't led a pampered life and knew she'd have to suffer consequences for her actions.

"If I'd paid her more attention she'd have not gone." Wat licked his lips, wiped them with a cloth and sniffed. "She was all over me in the tavern last night."

Jocelyn focused on those words, turning from Will. "You let her go with him, Wat? You sat there and watched her leave with that man and didn't stop her?"

Wat shook his head. "I didn't even see her with him at all."

"You likely saw nothing but your food, yes?" Will snatched the last piece of bread from the platter and handed it to Jocelyn. "You'd better help Geoff calm Christiana."

"Christiana doesn't need me to calm her. I need _her_ to calm _me_!"

"Please, Jocelyn." In moments, the lady was gone and Roland was left with Wat and Will. The three of them had been together for long enough that Roland knew what was coming next. Will was going to sit and ask what Roland wasn't telling. True to his expectations, the younger man did just that, sitting and folding his arms on the table top. "Tell me the rest, Roland. I don't know how long before they return."

"There's little to tell. Kate slept with him and ran. The herald, Germaine, came and said he'd help her."

Will shook his head. "Adhemar's herald suddenly picking up and leaving his posting? It doesn't smack true. Could it have been a trick? Could he have been given orders to lure her away?"

Wat sat back, a half eaten apple slice in his hand. "Adhemar came here though. He was looking for her."

"True." Will stared at the table. "I don't trust the herald. All I know of him is what I saw at tournament. Kate could be in danger. He could be leading her straight to Adhemar and the man's visit here an attempt to goad us into following and getting into a fight."

All three sank into silence, contemplating that possibility. If Germaine's actions were false and Kate walked straight into Adhemar's hands, she would never forgive Roland.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

"How free are you really?"

Kate wrapped her arms about her knees, resting her chin on one knee. They'd stopped for the night, braving making a tiny fire, and now discussed the subject of freedom, something Germaine had been mentioning throughout their long ride.

"There are differing levels of freedom for each station."

She frowned. There was freedom and there was servitude and little in between. "Explain."

He took a deep breath. "What is true freedom? Consider the noble. He has riches, titles, monetary wealth and prestige. He comes and goes as he pleases. Is he free?"

Kate tossed a twig on the fire, considered the question. In comparison to a peasant, yes a noble was free. A noble was the freest of men. "Yes."

Germaine nodded his head. "Very well. Now look at the highest class of servant, the man's steward perhaps. That man has prestige within the household. He's well-paid and is a trusted confidante of the noble. He can go about at ease as long as he anticipates the needs of his lord first. Is he free as well?"

"No." She sighed. "Not at all. He's a part of the household, subject to his lord's whims." There was the barest trace of a sad smile on the man's lips and he looked more melancholy as the evening progressed.

"Are you free Kate? Do you look at your life and believe you are free?"

"Yes. I'm indebted to none. My business can go where I go." A stab of pain struck her breast at the thought of having left her tools of trade behind. Unfortunately, there'd been no time to gather them and pack them securely. She knew Will would see them taken care of for her once he saw she'd not taken them. "I'm not tied to one household --"

"Oh?" He turned his head, gaze as sad as that smile she'd glimpsed. "You're indebted to Sir William. You serve him. I've seen you."

Kate gave a laugh and a vehement shake of her head, reaching up and gathering her hair, flipping it over her shoulder. "No, I'm not. I don't serve Will. We're friends. He gave me a chance when none would and we became friends. I stayed for the friendship. It's lonely without friends."

His attention returned to the small fire and he sat back against the tree trunk. "I know. The wanting of a friend, of kindred spirits can make a man do things he should not." Before she could answer, he rushed on. "Freedom then. To consider if a man is free, you must look for the cage that surrounds him. There are cages about each station, whether we realize it or not."

She listened closely. The only noble she'd had a chance to speak with honestly was Jocelyn and she'd found the woman quite unlike her assumptions of her. Jocelyn was bored with nobility, bored with her place in life. Class distinction meant little to her. She preferred to judge people on what she learned on them and not what wealth they had. Titles didn't impress her, nor supreme wealth. If it had, she'd have never bothered with Will in the first place. She'd have jumped at Adhemar in a second because of his wealth and title.

"The cage about the noble is harder to see than that about others, but look close and it is there. He has money and all the things that can bring about feelings of happiness. That happiness is false though, hollowed out and fleeting. It's not real, therefore, he spends his life in one pursuit, one conquest after another, searching for some _thing_ that will give meaning and put light to his life. He is jealous of those who find true, unspoiled happiness, for he doesn't understand that all his wealth and power won't buy him that which he craves. He's a spoiled child, never maturing into what he could have been, trapped in the cage of his nobility."

Adhemar. The thought surfaced in her mind that Germaine was explaining Adhemar to her. Why even bother?

"The servant, that steward, the herald....What is his cage? The biggest part of his confinement is to be subject to every inconsistent, selfish whim of his spoiled lord. He thinks himself happy and content, indispensable to his lord, yet semi-disposable at the same time. He has no trouble walking the fine, thin line he must, until one day, a group of people come into the periphery of his vision and he finds he's been blind to his own cage."

A hardness came into his voice, a rage that Kate realized this seeming gentle man had kept hidden. Hidden emotion could cause festering wounds and the emotion bursting forth now made her wonder how deep and how long the wounds Adhemar had given Germaine had been rotting. What had the man done to his herald that caused this hate?

"The herald considers all those things denied him for years, things he hadn't questioned at the time, such as insultingly casual announcements of the deaths of dear family members. He looks at the things he'd been called to remain silent on. Men followed for no reason save they annoyed his lord. Women maneuvered into his chambers, and not only peasant women, but pretty noble women as well. Lady Jocelyn was one day away from being stolen and finding herself in his private chamber at the inn." He paused, giving his next words extra emphasis. "A lance tipped."

What could she say? She had no words to make things right for him.

"I watched." He moved from pretense into the meat of it. No longer was this a vague discussion of hypothetical people, but one about him. "I watched William Thatcher win where countless others had failed. He gained a new life for himself through his determination. He didn't allow himself to be held back from becoming what he greatly wished to be. He changed his stars and I knew right then, when Alain Adhemar lay in the dust on that field that I could find the courage within me to do the same."

Will had inspired him, that's what he was trying to say. He'd inspired Germaine to do for himself. It was heartening to know that Will had given someone the resolve to change himself. "So you seized the moment when Adhemar sent you to find me."

"Yes." He nodded, smiling. "I left everything I had there, save the little bit I took from my room, the money purse and that bag. I am a pilgrim, embarking on a new life. I will not stop until I am far from the reach of my lord Adhemar."

"Then we are both pilgrims, for I've left my trade supplies behind and have nothing but what's in my bag here." She patted the cloth beside her.

Germaine got up, came to her and crouched down. "Have you coin, Kate?"

"A little. I've enough to get me home should I wish to go that direction."

"Where is your home? You mentioned Scotland."

She looked away. Scotland was her original home, where she'd grown up, but now....Now her home was wherever her friends were. Since she couldn't go back there, she'd have to find a new home. "I'm not ready to go home yet. I'm still up for adventure." 

Brave words and untrue. Kate no longer wanted the adventure of life on the road. With her husband, it had been her lot to travel with him and ease his burden and then after his sudden death, it had been her plight to try and earn enough to get back to Scotland. That had been a destination point to labor for.

But then she'd met William Thatcher. Germaine's life wasn't the only one changed by coming into contact with Will. Kate had found herself most changed by the contact. She'd softened under the gentle teasing the men set forth upon her, gradually admitting her feminine side when she realized they appreciated her for it as well as for her harder side. She'd come to enjoy their friendship and the thought of leaving it behind brought tears to her eyes. She'd hoped to set up shop when Will and Jocelyn married, plying her trade wherever they were.

"Here." Gemaine opened the money purse, pouring out several coins onto the blanket beside her. "Take these. If we should be separated, I'll know you can get home without worries of finances. I won't worry as much for you."

She scooped the coins back towards him. "Nonsense. You've no cause to worry for me. I can take care of myself."

His gaze traveled her face, concern there. "Please, Kate. Take them. Give my mind rest on this matter. I would see you somewhere safe any way I can and if that means giving you coin, then so be it."

He wanted her to take it. He meant his words. Kate hesitantly gathered the coins, which were a considerable amount, and slipped them into her bag. "Very well." The matter was settled and they slipped into an easy silence.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it that had awakened him? Germaine opened his eyes, heart beating fast in his chest. There, a twig snapping nearby. Someone was out there. It wasn't a random snap, but the crunch of a man's weight upon branches as he crept stealthily forward. Slowly, and as quietly as he could, Germaine rose from his makeshift bed, senses all alert.

Better become used to this, he thought. For the rest of his life he'd be looking over his shoulder, searching the road behind him for Adhemar. His freedom had a price and that price was his peace of mind. Going around the smoldering fire, he knelt beside Kate, shaking her. She gave an annoyed snort. He shook her harder, whispering her name as loud as he dared. Still, she didn't wake.

With a long sigh, Germaine stood. He'd have to go alone. Unsheathing his knife, he stepped into the dark of the forest around them. 


	4. Chapter Four

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: 4

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate woke with a start, every inch of her body screaming that danger was upon her. Her body was right.

Adhemar crouched beside her, the low flickering flames of the fire giving his handsome features a devilish cast. Her breath caught painfully in her throat and she sat, hand fumbling for her knife. He smiled, a tiny upwards quirk of well shaped lips, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and held up her knife before her eyes. "Looking for this?"

Her lips trembled, her eyes were wide. Frantically, her hand searched the ground for something to hit him with, frustration building within her when she failed to find a rock or stick. She didn't dare take her eyes from him.

"This chase is done, Kate." The knife was set to his side, far from her reach unless she wanted to scramble over him to get it. She wasn't inclined to do so. "I took the liberty of removing anything you could use against me, including that rather weighted purse you carried."

"Give it back." She choked on the words, her fear tight throat unwilling to let loose the sounds. He was too close, but she didn't want to lie back and have him staring down at her. God only knew how long he'd been doing that anyway.

"In due time. When I'm certain you won't attempt to slit my throat with the knife, it'll be returned. As for the purse and your other belongings, you need none of it. I'll provide coin for your meals and lodgings now." He settled down onto his rear, both legs bent, one resting on the ground and the other raised as a rest for his forearm. His hand dangled, limp, but Kate was very aware of the strength in those fingers.

Braving a glance away from him, Kate was dismayed to find the clearing surrounded by men and horses. How had she slept through their approach and where was Germaine? His blankets were no longer spread out on the other side of the fire. The only bed here was hers. Panic tightened her chest, her heart still thumping excruciatingly hard.

"You're looking for Germaine I suppose. That makes two of us. You were alone here when we arrived, though I did find one of my men tied and gagged not far from here." He paused, lips parted. When she didn't say anything, he continued, speaking slowly, as though he assumed she was simple and needed clarification. "Germaine is gone, Kate. He left you. He left you alone."

Gone. He'd gone. He'd ridden away and left her to face Adhemar by herself. A rush of hot tears clouded her vision and she blinked them back, cursing the man -- _the men _-- soundly in her mind. How could he? Had he meant to leave her all along? Was that why he'd pushed the coins on her?

"You may cry, if you like." Adhemar looked over his shoulder, glanced about the small campsite. "Don't take too long. I don't fancy listening to you wail the rest of the night."

The words had the effect of a splash of icy water along her skin. How nice of him to give her permission to feel miserable. She shook her head, making a movement with the intent of getting to her feet and at least _attempting_ to put up a fight. She barely made it to her knees, Adhemar reaching out with the coiled energy of a snake and drawing her back to the ground. In less time than it took for Kate to take a breath, she'd been subdued on her back, his superior strength holding her in place. He straddled her, swung a leg across her body and used his weight and strength as a weapon. She was no match for a seasoned knight, despite her training as a smith and she knew it.

Her skirts were twisted about her legs, the shoulder seam of her dress pulled so tight across her arm that she knew it would rip if she moved. However, she couldn't stop herself from squirming beneath his unwelcome weight. Her dress ripped, baring her shoulder. "Let me go," she whispered.

"Haven't you had enough excitement for the day, Kate?" Adhemar yanked her arms upwards, taking her wrists in one hand, the other touching her face.

Turning her head, she snapped at his fingers with her teeth.

"Oh, I like spirit in a woman," he laughed, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "If you keep struggling, I'll think you're trying to entice me."

She stopped trying to buck him off of her. That was the last thing she wanted, him thinking she wanted him, because she didn't. She didn't want him in any way, shape or form. Really. He didn't attract her in the slightest. The previous night had been under full influence of quite a lot of liquor. If she'd not been drunk, she'd have never gone with him. Really.

Kate blinked, pushing aside all thoughts of her motivations from the night before. She'd rather not think on how she'd blithely tripped up to his room after a few drinks. That indicated something she didn't want to consider. "I'd rather slit your throat than go to your bed."

"Well, we proved that wrong last night, obviously. Trust me, Kate, you had no thoughts of slitting my throat on your mind." He released her jaw, fingers going to the tear at her shoulder, slipping along the torn seam and delving in the tear to touch her skin. "Tearing you own clothes off are you?"

She turned her head aside, refusing to answer.

"Calmed? Yes?" 

Slowly, he got up from her and picked up the blanket that had been partly covering her. Kate brought her arms down, rubbing her wrists gingerly with her fingers. She'd be bruised in the morning from that hard grip. Kate rolled onto her side away from him, closing her eyes. He settled behind her, fitting his larger body along her smaller one, an extended process that had her nerves stretched to near the breaking point before he quit inching about. A possessive arm was thrown over her waist, his face turned in to her hair. She stiffened, but the warmth of his body eased the slight chill of the night from her, relaxing her a tiny bit.

He sniffed. "After the entire day, you still smell of lavender."

Kate waited for him to tire of holding her, waited for him to turn her, for his mouth to come down upon hers in a heated display of that passion he had chased her with. He didn't though. He lay behind her, that arm anchoring her to him, a long-wanted plaything he'd finally caught. As she drifted towards exhausted slumber, a small disappointed part of her cried out in frustration within her mind, but she fell asleep before she could analyze and deny that cry.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn't wanted to leave her. He hadn't wanted to ride away and leave Kate with Adhemar, but he'd had no choice. He was rather attached to living and Adhemar would not hesitate to kill him. He'd seen his lord kill men for much less than running from service and taking the latest female obsession with him.

It was a no win situation. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

If he had stayed, he would be dead. By leaving, he was still alive, but Kate would surely think he'd deserted her. Knowing his lord as well as he did, he was sure the man would play up that seeming desertion. _Really Kate_, he'd say with raised brows, _did you think he'd even try protecting you from me? Did you think he possibly cared one whit what happens to you, a peasant woman he knew a single day? _Yes, he could practically hear the words. His lord..._former_ lord was very good at twisting words to suit his purpose. It could almost be called a talent.

In all fairness, he'd tried to wake her. He'd shaken her before going to find their visitor. The benefit of having been long in Adhemar's service was that he knew how to sneak up on the enemy. He knew how to bring a man down in silence. He was as much of a soldier as his lord was. So, the struggle with their visitor had not been loud enough to stir her. He'd shaken her again, more forcefully. He'd done all but slap her in effort to bring her to a waking state and Germaine would not cross that line. He'd not slap a woman if he could help it.

Kate had not stirred the second time, not even a snort or mumble. Her breath had been deep and even. The day had finally caught fully up with her. He could imagine her state of mind. There was horror at waking in an unexpected place with a man she probably disliked, though he didn't know her honest feelings on Alain Adhemar. She'd not spoken them aloud. Her flight indicated dislike. Then came the rush as she hurried to dress and leave, the certainty that the man was going to follow her. Finally, the fear of glancing over her shoulder all day. Fear was one of the most draining emotions one could have.

What did he do now? He couldn't in all good conscience leave her completely. He had to find some way to help her.

Turning his mount, Germaine began a wide circle around the road so as not to run afoul of Count Adhemar's troops, and headed back towards London.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Come," he ordered, the unyielding grip on her arm giving her no other recourse than to be led by him.

Kate blinked sleepily. The fear of the day before still drained her, a new fear added to the mix now that he'd found her. It encased her, as her cloak did, heavy and covering. What did he plan for her? Oh, she knew his long range plans. Who didn't? They largely included his bedchamber, an idiot could see that. But as to his immediate plans, she was in the dark. Literally. It was still night, the sky only beginning to lighten with dawn. She'd had only a few hours of sleep.

"Keep up, Kate. You're lagging." Transferring her arm to his other hand, he gave her a hearty whack on the bottom.

Oh joy, she thought, mouth opening with an indignant cry she decided not to loose. He was in a good mood. Just what she needed. She suspected that Adhemar in a good mood was somehow much worse than him in a bad one.

They stopped not far from the camp, in the clearing by the creek. He released her, motioned at her. "Undress."

Kate stumbled several steps from him, crossing her arms, her legs quaking. So soon? And here, on rough ground? She'd not thought him a man to eschew physical comforts unless he had to.

The ghost of an amused smile was on his lips. "No? You don't wish to bathe then?" Sweeping his coat from his side, he unwound a small pouch from his belt and opened it, turning it upside down over his palm. A cake of soap fell out, the pouch tossed to the ground.

"Bathe?" The question came out a squeak and she glanced at the creek, then the soap that he waggled at her.

"Yes. Put soap to flesh for the purpose of taking dirt from the skin?" He set the soap on the pouch, lean fingers undoing the closures of his wrinkled shirt. "You're a clean woman. I thought you'd adore a bathe this fine morning before the rest of the camp stirred." As he spoke, he continued to strip, clothes dropping to the ground.

Kate found herself staring at him and forced herself to look away. "I don't....I...."

"You're not shy, are you?" He was mocking her, goading her, a challenge in his voice.

She had to admit, bathing would be lovely. She hadn't had time the day before to wash him off her skin and her imagination had conjured up the image that his touch had left indelible marks upon her flesh. Never before had she imagined that her predilection for a good bath would be used against her.

"I'd not thought you shy, not the way you knocked me to the floor."

Water splashed, Kate returning her gaze to him in time to catch a glimpse of his backside before he was covered by the water. She took her cloak off, folding it and setting it on the ground. The morning was already strangely warm. Strangely, impossibly warm. She pressed her hand along her cheeks and neck in an attempt to cool herself.

"Join me, Kate." He called to her.

"No."

"Aww, no bath?"

"I'm not going to strip naked with you watching me."

"Well, you won't get free of that. Sorry to disappoint." But he wasn't sorry. She hated the way he looked at her now, hungry, a predator stalking her. Kate was very much the victim of a hunt, stalked and brought down. Now, the beast toyed with his meal.

He swam and Kate took off her shoes, going to the bank and slipping her feet into the water. It was cool but not too cold and she regretted that she was going to have to ignore the siren call of the water. There was no way she was going to bathe with him watching her.

Her mind wandered to her friends. By now, they'd know what had happened and be worried for her safety. Too bad there wasn't some way to let them know she was alright. She didn't think Adhemar would let a messenger ride back to London, though she wouldn't put it past him to do so to gloat. He'd send a messenger to Will if he thought it would goad the younger man into doing something rash. Look at what I did. I found Kate. I have her and she's mine.

Picking a wildflower, she pulled the petals off of it, tossing them one by one into the water. Strange, how perceptions of something could differ. If Jocelyn had slept with Will and run away the next day, Kate would think it romantic when Will followed. But this, _this_, was not romantic. The reasons for Will and Jocelyn doing both actions would be very different from Kate and Adhemar's.

She managed to ignore him until he was dressed again and standing over her, his wet hair dripping. The remains of a flower were tossed into the water, her gaze lifting warily up to his face, eyes widening. Whatever good mood had been upon him had vanished, his stare cold and hard as he considered her. Bending, he took her arm, fingers curling in an unbreakable grip, dragging her to her feet. 

"Bathe." The word was an order, not a request.

"No."

His other hand curved about her neck. "You're defying me?"

"You don't own me. I don't take orders from you." She swallowed, waiting for a slap or some such punishment.

Adhemar yanked her close, that hand behind her neck angling her head back so that she had to look at him. Her arm ached where he gripped it. "As of two nights ago, I do own you, Kate, part of you at least. You will learn to take orders from me." Stepping forward he used his body to force hers backwards, slow and deliberate movements. The grass under her bare feet gave way to the mud at the very edge of the creek. Kate stumbled, trying to pry that hand from her neck. Abruptly, he stopped, shoving her and releasing her as he stepped from away.

Kate gave a sharp cry, then a loud curse as she lost her balance, falling backwards into the creek. When she managed to sit up, spitting out water, he gave a short laugh.

"Well, seeing as how you're in the water anyway, you might as well wash." The bar of soap splashed in front of her. Snatching it up, she briefly contemplated throwing it at him, her glare as murderous as she could make it. "I'd suggest you hurry, or I may be tempted to come in and wash you."

He left her with that remark, and Kate hurried.


	5. Chapter Five

Title: Wooing Kate

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

Wringing the water from her sodden clothes, Kate pondered on ways to strip flesh from Adhemar's body. She conjured up several gruesome ways, making imaginative use of both her tools of trade and his own sword. And knife. And those lances in that wagon. She imagined him screaming in agony, but since she had no real access to any of those things, she'd have to consider something less bloody. But what?

The forest around her was still and quiet for the most part. She could hear the faint sounds of the camp waking. Would the man return for her, or was there the possibility she could slip away? Surely he wouldn't chase her a full day and be so careless as to leave her alone? A few minutes of walking showed her that, no, he wasn't careless. He'd posted a guard. The man wasn't looking at her, but she didn't doubt he knew she was coming towards him.

Kate stopped walking. Of course Adhemar wouldn't make escape easy for her. Not this time. He'd been careless once, in that room in London, and wouldn't be so again. Pressing her lips together almost primly, she turned on her heel, stalking back towards the camp, her stride brisk and purposeful. She'd just have to watch him closely and plan to leave after getting a grasp of his routine.

Every man had a routine he followed, from Will to Geoff to Adhemar, certain ways they did things and a specific daily order to those things. Will liked to train in the afternoon and relax in the evening, his mornings spent by first breakfasting with the entire group and then spending time with Lady Jocelyn. Geoff's habits were harder to plot, as he was often random in his activities. However, within the randomness was order. He liked meals at a certain time. He preferred to sleep for a set amount of hours at one time and was grouchy when denied that sleep. Each man had habits unique to him and Kate decided she'd have to discover more about Adhemar to give herself the chance to flee him once more.

Her steps slowed as she neared the camp, her gaze falling to the ground as she paused to take a steadying breath. She lit upon a familiar herb in the carpet of grasses, a leisured devious grin tugging at her lips. What luck! God must be smiling upon her from his seat high in the heavens.

Bending, she collected a few of the leaves, slipping them into the cloak she held folded in one arm. This little herb , mixed with some food or wine, could cause a man considerable gastric distress. She'd slip a bit into his meal when she got a chance and when he was incapacitated from it, go on her way.

Why stop at just _his_ food though? Why not slip it into food for the entire camp and not have to worry about one of those men following her on Adhemar's orders? It wouldn't kill them. None of them would be sick for more than a few hours or so. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of seeing Count Adhemar with stomach distress. It'd serve him right for manhandling her like she was a possession and not a person. It'd serve him right period.

* * *

The look on Kate's pretty face when he pushed her into the water was priceless, Adhemar reflected, opening up her bag and rifling through it with a complete disregard for her privacy. Also priceless was the glare she'd given him right after, all fire and passion with a bit of murder mixed in. She'd cheerfully kill him if given the chance. It might be amusing to give her that chance, then pluck the satisfaction from her as he would ripe fruit from a tree.

He pulled out a jumble of wrinkled white cloth, shaking it. It was a dress, thin, but clean. Laying it aside, he looked through the possessions the woman had brought on her journey. A comb. A clasp that looked to be the sort for a woman's hair. A couple apples. That hefty bag of coins. There wasn't really much in the bag. He'd expected more, maybe a token of sorts to remind her of her dead husband. She'd spoken of the man briefly in the room, mentioning that, as a widow, she had to be careful or lose her business. A quick mention, but the emotion in those words heavy. She'd been very attached to her husband.

Thoughtful, Adhemar sat back on his haunches, slipping all but the dress back in the bag. Kate would need to change clothes when she returned. The white dress would suffice. Maybe he'd have a man ride into the next town and find some cloth, something either dark or vibrant. A green perhaps, or orange. She could make herself a new dress. He had the urge to see her in something as daring as Lady Jocelyn might wear, creamy pale flesh displayed for his eyes.

She'd refuse, he knew. He didn't think he'd be getting any tender considerations from her anytime soon. Perhaps he'd best wait on a new dress for her anyway. The sort of clothing he imagined might prove too much for the restraint of his men anyway and he'd not see them having at her. No, he'd wait on that idea until they were home and he could keep her ensconced in his chamber wearing all manner of provocative clothes for his eyes only.

He stood, changing into the clean clothes that had been set out for him while he'd bathed and thinking about the best way to handle Kate. Force? A last effort maybe. Dark bruises would be unfortunate against her skin. Besides, he wanted more of that unrestrained wanton surrender she'd given him. He'd had just enough to intrigue him; to tease his imagination with the possibilities. Should he try and persuade her with kindness? She likely wouldn't expect it. No, she wouldn't. Wicked Count Adhemar wouldn't lower himself to woo a peasant woman, no matter how much he wanted her. Wooing was for noble women.

Well Kate, he thought with a smirk, let's see how you fare against me this way.

* * *

He was not wearing all black. For some reason, that surprised Kate. The devil should wear black at all times, yes? He was wearing red; a red shirt -- equally fitting for a devil she supposed. The color looked very good on him, setting off his black hair. She tamped down the appreciative rush of desire that surged forward. I must be ill, she thought. Going to her bed, she set her cloak carefully on the blankets, not wanting him to find the herbs.

"I suggest you change your clothes. Wet clothing is not pleasant to ride all day in."

Her white dress was dropped onto her cloak and she looked up. "You looked through my things." His affirmative was given in such a manner to suggest she was daft for thinking he wouldn't. It was all she could do not to make a reach for the dagger he'd fastened along his belt. Patience, Kate. It is a virtue, remember. Be reasonable and sweet and look for the proper time. Then strike. Kate gave him a haughty look. "You expect me to change in front of all?"

"Of course not. We'll return to the clearing. I'll even turn my back."

Kate led the way, and was surprised when he was as good as his word, not turning and watching her.

* * *

As a rule and under somewhat normal circumstances, Geoffrey Chaucer was able to calm the hysterics of persons of feminine persuasion remarkably well. It could almost be considered a special talent, much like his ability to put pen to parchment and come up with something entertaining to the masses. Perhaps it was his calm, unflappable manner that reassured women that all was well despite the obvious that it was not.

Christiana, lovely of face and fair of figure, would prove to be the single exception. Oh, she was playing her role as hysteric in a beautiful fashion, rolling her brown eyes in anguish and wringing her slender hands together. Geoff knew that tears were soon on the way by the fast blinking and the hitch to her breath. But she was resisting any attempt to calm her, muttering about Roland and insensitive men in general, nearly overdoing it in dramatics to the point of caricature in his opinion.

Tears fell and Geoff waited for her to turn against him for a nice, non-threatening, comforting embrace, where she'd soak his shirtfront and he'd need to change. He even spread his arms in invitation. His mind, always maintaining a slight, professional detachment -- once a writer, always one -- strove to capture the scene in a way that would appeal to an audience.

The hysterical young woman, upset by the insensitive words of her lover. No, not insensitive. Tactless perhaps? Threads of possible plot tickled at his imagination. There was yet another story in this, he knew it. He could smell the tantalizing scent of it cooking.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to follow this to the conclusion as he had with Will. No, Geoffrey Chaucer must soon take his leave of his companions and return to service for his king. He'd dawdled long enough in his most welcome rest. Tomorrow would see him in audience with King Edward. His career path would take him away from these friends he'd made.

He lowered his arms, as the young woman appeared uninterested in a hug of any kind. That saved him from having to change shirts at least.

The thought of leaving them all made him sad, yet not overly so. Life was far too short to spend it in the throes of melancholy. Moments now and then were fine, but not a constant wallow in the state. They'd all move on to more adventures, for that was how Geoff thought of life. An adventurous road God above sets each person on. Who was he to tell God where to put him? He was a humble student of human nature, a writer attempting to record the ups and downs of a life fully lived so as to entertain others. A noble calling and one he had to work at on the side of responsibility.

Phillipa insisted he come home and bathe in the morning so she could dress him properly. It wouldn't do, she'd said, to go before Edward looking like he'd spent nearly a year bumming about the world, even if it was truth. Lovely Phillipa. A man could not ask for a better wife than she.

Geoff sighed and found that, sometime during his thoughts, Christiana had stopped crying and was staring at him. He hadn't the faintest idea what she'd said to him, if anything. He gave an inward wince. Not good. She was likely to slap him. He was male and therefore insensitive and party to the betrayal of Kate that she credited Roland.

"You weren't listening," she accused, crossing her arms.

He blinked, trailing one hand in the air. "No, no, of course I was, but I, regrettably, became distracted by thoughts of Kate's plight."

The Lady Jocelyn came through the door, magnificent in her fury, Geoff decided with a long glance. Anger lent a healthy color to her cheeks and her eyes practically glowed with indignation. She was no nonsense now, going to her maid and hugging her before glaring at him. He tried not to feel put out that Christiana would accept a hug from her and not him.

"Would you have done the same, Geoffrey?" The Lady Jocelyn had decided, after saying his name aloud several times the previous week, that she preferred his name in full to the shortened version. She always called him Geoffrey, claiming he looked more like a 'Geoffrey' in her mind than a 'Geoff'. He had yet to ask her what a 'Geoff' was supposed to look like. "Would you have given Kate that same counsel?"

Dangerous ground. An uncomfortable thick lump grew in his throat and he coughed it away. How could he answer in truth so that both women would understand? "Will you both hear me out before slitting my throat?"

Lady Jocelyn put her hands on her hips, giving him a regal stare and Christiana nodded.

Taking a few steps, he put the table in their way. They'd have to go around it to get to him. "Yes, I would have. If I had seen Kate, heard her story....I'd have told her exactly what Roland did, though perhaps not in such a blunt manner. I'd have gone through each option with her and weighed each, but my final opinion would have been that she needed to hie herself back to Adhemar in haste."

"Why?" The Lady demanded, coming to the table and placing her hands flat on the top. "Where does that come from? How does that seem right?"

As he'd recorded Christiana's weeping in his mind, he recorded this woman's fury. She was close enough that he could see a slight mottling to her complexion, not flattering, but then anger was rarely flattering in any person. Her chest, not impressive as Kate had once pointed out, rose and fell with her quick, hard breaths. "Calm down and I shall explain it to you."

Her tongue poked at her cheek, pushing it out and she grimaced. "I'm perfectly calm, Geoffrey."

"If you say so, my lady. Who am I to contradict?" Geoff glanced at Christiana. The young woman was watching him far more calmly than her mistress. After her brief crying jag, she'd calmed in nearly the blink of an eye. "First, that boy in the other room does not need another fight with Adhemar."

"Man," Jocelyn corrected with a raised and rather arrogant brow. "Not boy, I assure you."

And you would know, he thought. "That _man_ is hurt far more than he lets you know. He'd walk into hell for you on two broken legs, my lady, and not give a whimper of pain. A fight with Adhemar, even with Adhemar being as bruised as Will I suspect, Will would lose. I can guarantee that. Will is not a battle hardened soldier, Lady Jocelyn. Count Adhemar is. Count Adhemar has a proven record of fighting while severely injured. It's a miracle he's not maimed or lame with some of the injuries he's fought with. Roland is quite aware of that. We are all aware, even you, if you will but admit it to yourself."

Some of the tension slipped from her shoulders, the rigid line of her back slumping a little. Christiana moved forward, joining them at the table.

He continued. "Adhemar would start a fight. He's that sort of man. Roland was hoping to divert a fight, saving Will's life. And as for Kate, do you really think she was unwilling last night? Do you think that she was stolen from the street and forced into his bed? If you do, you know nothing of our Kate."

Jocelyn reared back as though he'd slapped her. "You said she knows better than to do anything for him, I heard you. She wouldn't go to him --"

Christiana now looked uncertain, her gaze lowering. "Kate has a wild side, my lady. To a woman with hidden wild longings, he'd be most attractive and appealing."

Geoff gave Christiana a quick consideration. She seemed to understand _that_ well enough. Perhaps Kate wasn't the only one with a wild side she suppressed most of the time. Did Christiana also find Count Adhemar fascinating on some level? "She also has a temper. Have you not heard how Will got her to work for him in the beginning?" He inquired, returning his attention to the Lady.

"I've heard the story."

"But not listened apparently, my lady." Geoff licked his lips. Christiana understood, the light of comprehension in her eyes. Jocelyn though....She was clinging to her assumptions that all women were like her and repulsed by Adhemar's manner. "Will goaded her into doing the work, deliberately baiting her and she rose to that bait. He pricked her temper."

She crossed her arms, shoulders hunching. "So what? Adhemar dared her to go with him? What? Explain to me why she'd go with him, because I really don't understand it, Geoffrey."

"Let's set the scene to begin and go from there. She was drinking and eating with Wat at the tavern. She drank quite a lot. Her defenses were down, her sense of proper action swept away. Have you ever been that intoxicated, my lady?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "Only once, a long time ago. I was very sick from it."

"Everyone is a friend at that point. It takes a lot to get Kate there. She can almost drink Wat under the table and he's got a tolerance that's rather amazing. Now, say she was that drunk and left the tavern for some reason. She ran into Adhemar. Maybe he flattered her." His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.

"Count Adhemar can be charming when he chooses." Christiana closed her eyes and winced as though she hated admitting this.

"In a clumsy way. He's no poet." Jocelyn scoffed at the idea.

"Not always clumsy. He can be...pleasant."

The tiny pause was intriguingly placed, causing Geoff to wonder what had been said at various times between Christiana and the Count. Adhemar had seemed to want Jocelyn with an intense fervor. Naturally, he'd have attempted to create an ally in Christiana. Geoff barely held back a sigh. Oh, the wonderful stories he sensed cooking beneath the surface and he couldn't stay to find them out! He was almost tempted to ignore his duties awhile longer and stay. 

"How often does Kate hear flattery from anyone? I'm ashamed to admit I never gave her much verbal flattery. Now, I'm not saying she went with him because of pretty words that appealed to her feminine nature, a nature she has little chance to indulge in. It's only a possibility. We won't know unless Kate appears and tells us. However, no one can force Kate into doing anything she doesn't want to do. Not really. If she was forced, the entire world would have known it."

Now to explain Kate's wild side. Not that Geoff knew much about her secret longings and such, but he could surmise much from what he knew of her. He went to the window, looked out, then turned back. "Kate has an eye for a fine figure of a man. She won't hesitate to admire when she sees something she likes, friend, foe or unknown. Besides, she once told me a little about her husband and the physical description she gave was very near Adhemar. Black hair, tall...." Geoff trailed off, waiting for some reaction.

He didn't have long to wait, Jocelyn's hands twisting in her skirts. "I can understand your view now. I don't like it, or agree with it, but what's done is done. Roland tried to protect us all and Kate is gone."

"Kate is a grown woman trying to run from the consequences of her own actions."

"She'll have to face it eventually, no matter where she runs to." Christiana's expression had gone blank, her gaze far away with thought. Geoff wondered what she was thinking.

"Kate is gone." Jocelyn repeated that, anger draining away from her, replaced by sadness.

The two women said nothing more, leaving together, letting the door shut behind them. Geoff stretched his arms above his head, leaning side to side. God speed to you, Kate, he thought. May your adventure be one for storybooks. 


	6. Chapter Six

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: 6

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Wow. I didn't expect this story to have such a response! Thank you all for the reviews. 

~~~~~~~~~

"We've got to do something, Will. We can't just sit here. We can't leave Kate out there with Adhemar after her."

Will looked up at the two women. Apparently, Geoff was now in trouble along with Roland. Whatever he'd said to Christiana and Jocelyn hadn't done any good. Both women were still upset, only now in an icy, almost detached way, as though they'd removed themselves emotionally from the issue. Christiana especially. Will had never seen the young woman so...cold. Her expression fair gave him chills. 

If only Kate had come to them all instead of rushing off with Adhemar's herald! He'd have urged her to stay and gone to Adhemar himself over her, anything to straighten out the mess she'd gotten into. She didn't need to run off, to sneak away. How could she have thought it better to run away? Didn't she know that he'd fight for her? He'd fight for anyone he considered a friend and Kate was of the dearest of those.

This was a fine mess, too. Geoff and Roland willing to sacrifice Kate for him. Jocelyn had practically spit that out, that Geoffrey Chaucer held the same view as Roland. How wrong was that? He'd not expected it from either man. Neither had seemed the sort. He had to talk with them both, understand why.

"I have to know more than I know right now." Geoff and Roland sat side by side and Wat stood looking out the window. Will didn't want to discuss it all with the women present. Jocelyn was mad enough that he half expected her to take out her eating dagger and use it on either Roland or Geoff. "Would you give us time to talk? Please Jocelyn. Christiana." It wasn't a question, but rather what he expected and the women left, after exchanging a glance.

Now, it was only the men and they could talk without feminine emotions flaring up. "Roland."

The man drew in a breath, loud and shaking, jumping right in to the subject. "She's a grown woman, Will. She made a choice and she should have faced the consequences." Roland was desperate for understanding, his expression anguished, but Will couldn't give him that understanding, for he _didn't_ understand.

Will looked at Geoff, who appeared unrepentant, even bored. "Geoff?"

"Look _William_, we can stand about and banter this day and night and nothing will change the fact that Roland gave Kate that advice. It's done and we must move on."

"If I _could_ go back, I'd keep my mouth shut, that's for sure." Roland muttered.

"I don't understand why the two of you are so willing to sacrifice Kate for me. Has she been any less of a friend to either of you?" Will shook his head. He was having difficulty wrapping his mind around this development. "Explain it to me, both of you, because I don't fathom why you'd prefer sending Kate to Adhemar, a man known to belittle and degrade peasants, than to fight for her."

Roland crumbled, shoulders bowing. "I made a mistake. God, haven't you ever made one that came back and gutted you? It was a huge mistake and I'd take it back if I could. I panicked. That's all it was. All I could think of was Adhemar coming here looking for Kate and a fight and murdering us all. The safer option seemed, at the time, for her to just go back to him. He'd have likely tired of her in a day or two if his track record is any indication. It was easier than...than _death_."

Will glanced at Geoff, but it was Wat who put the words to voice.

"Well, what's your excuse, you lanky, no-good scribe?"

"My excuse? Have I need of one? Is it wrong to hold a personal opinion?" He crossed his arms, a strange expression in his blue eyes, one that Will couldn't make heads or tails of. "Very well, _Wat_. It would have been much easier on Kate had she gone back, for one thing. Roland is right, I suspect, in that Adhemar would have lost interest quickly. For Adhemar, the chase is the best part." He raised his voice. "Don't you agree, my lady? Eavesdropping is unbecoming to you, please join us."

Jocelyn pushed open the door the rest of the way with one hand and fixed a cool stare upon Geoff, declining to comment. Will went to her, drew her in and closed the panel. Her arm slipped about his waist. He was sorry she'd returned so quickly, but he could understand that at least. Jocelyn had come to consider them all hers by association with him. They were her friends because they were his and Kate, as female like Jocelyn, was more of a friend by that connection of sisterhood. No, they hadn't spoken much, those two, but Jocelyn would fight for her as though she was her closest friend.

"How would she have fared if we'd made a stand? I'm a knight, Geoff, I should have protected her. As her friend, I should have protected her. I should have been allowed to have that chance."

Wat's temper was on the rise, his jaw clenching and gaze going as hard as pebbles. "Your argument is flawed." He pointed at Geoff.

"And you're reading too much into my opinion. Personally, I don't think Adhemar will hurt her in any way. He likes women. It's men he likes to hit...." He sighed. "Look, what's done is done. What has been said, right or wrong, has been said. Roland expresses the deepest of regrets and we're all entitled to our opinion, no matter if another agrees or not. Perhaps I shouldn't have admitted the opinion, but Lady Jocelyn, you shouldn't have asked." Geoff shook his head. "Kate knew better and did it anyway, drunk or not. We don't know how drunk she was and I can only conclude she knew exactly what she was doing when she went with Adhemar. She should have gone back."

"Insensitive swine." Jocelyn spit out.

"Have I said that I thought she should climb back in bed with the man?"

"Don't try and wiggle away Geoffrey, it was implied." She tensed against Will and he ran a soothing hand along her back.

"Kate is a grown woman who knew what she was getting into. She panicked, like Roland did. What would have happened had she not? A writer's favorite past time, looking at the possibilities. Let me think. She'd have expressed her regrets, undoubtedly with that loud dulcet tone we've all heard--"

All of a sudden, Will couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the arguing, the hateful words.... "Enough," he shouted. "We're going in circles. Everyone shut up. You don't know what you'd have said, Geoff, any more than the rest of us know what we'd have said. It's speculation and the only real issue at present is Roland's selfish, self-preserving slip, which he's anguishing over right now. It was self-preservation, I see that. Geoff, you don't mean that." He let go of Jocelyn, faced her. "Jocelyn, ignore Geoff's words as idle speculation to a question that wasn't even fair, for that's all it is. Do you see that?"

"Will, he means it. He really believes that Kate should have gone back--"

"He may think he'd say that and he's giving a good show of behaving as though he believes it, but put Geoff in that position and I doubt he'd do it."

"You'd have said the same of me once, Will." Roland's voice was low and husky, as though he was fighting back tears. Maybe he was, Will decided. He seemed to be greatly regretting his advice to Kate and his admission of it.

"Roland--"

"No, Will. I've no excuse. None." He looked at Geoff. "Pretty words can't take the focus off of me Geoff. You've a quick mind and, while I appreciate the support, give it up now. I can take the criticism alone."

The herald made no contradiction Will noticed, but he wasn't entirely certain Geoff was so noble as to support Roland just so the man wouldn't have to bear criticism alone. He could be he supposed. It was more likely, he thought, that Geoff was momentarily surprised that Roland thought him so loyal of character. Sometimes, Will wondered how much of them Geoff really saw. Geoff was a writer and spinner of tales by admission, and Will wondered if Geoff saw them most times as simply characters, becoming surprised when they didn't react as he'd expected, _as he'd write them_.

Roland passed a hand over his face. "I made a mistake and I've lost more from a few words than I'd ever thought. Let's move on, shall we? I'm sorry. How many times shall I say it?"

"Tell it to Kate," Jocelyn said simply.

"I'll kiss her bare feet and call myself unworthy, then beg her forgiveness when I see her next and every time thereafter." Roland left the room, edging by Jocelyn as though he feared she'd strike him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roland sat sewing, the constant movement of taking the stitches soothing to his troubled mind. He'd cut his own throat with Christiana. She wouldn't even look at him now. The knowledge that he'd lost her love through careless words was nearly more pain than he could bear, an excruciating knife in his belly.

Damn it all! If he could go back, he'd do it differently. But there was no going back and as a consequence, he'd lost Christiana's love, forever he suspected. There'd be no softening of her heart back towards him now.

Not only her love gone, but respect from the others as well. Lady Jocelyn looked at him as if he was a worm in an apple she'd taken a bite of. Wat, for once in his life, showed no emotion, which bothered Roland even more than Will's pleading eyes. The only time Wat showed no emotion was when something didn't concern him at all. Therefore, Roland no longer concerned him. There'd be no more friendly taunting and teasing, no more joking. He'd lost a good friend with Wat.

He wasn't one to cry like a baby, but right now he was close. He'd succumbed to panic when he shouldn't have, given in to it's grasping hands.

When Kate had revealed what she'd done, he'd felt the most horrible crush of fear and panic in his chest, a heavy weight on his chest, a fist squeezing his throat. He'd not thought he could even draw a breath to respond. She'd said she was fleeing and all he could see before his eyes was Adhemar coming and hurting them all.

He'd messed up. He'd thrown away everything with a few words. They didn't want him around anymore and who could blame them? It could be one of them he betrayed next. Roland set the cloth aside, not bothering to anchor the needle in the cloth and unconcerned when it slipped free of the thread and dropped onto the floor to be lost there.

There was nothing else to do, but the obvious.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will was beginning to worry. He'd not seen any sign of Roland since the afternoon before, when the man had walked from the room. Will was meeting Jocelyn's father soon and he wanted Roland to look him over before they left, make sure he looked proper. He chewed on a thumbnail, then turned his head. "Wat, where's Roland?" The man would know.

Wat glanced away, studying the distance.

"Where's Geoff then?" Geoff would do in a pinch. Geoff could advise him on how he'd dressed wrong if need be. There was no answer again and Will was opening his mouth to demand that Wat drop the innocent act and tell him when Jocelyn burst through the door, out of breath, her lovely face set with worry.

"I can't find Christiana anywhere. No one has seen her and all of her things are gone."

Will turned to Wat, giving him a suspicious stare. "If you know anything about this Wat, tell me now."

He ran a hand through his red hair, giving Jocelyn an apologetic look. "Fine. Roland set out last night. I don't know where he's going. I didn't ask. Geoff left this morning, and as for Christiana, she set out about noon. I _know_ where she's going. _She's_ going to rescue Kate."

"Alone!" Will rolled his eyes. "She thinks she's going to rescue Kate all by herself?"

Jocelyn cleared her throat, Will returning his regard to her. All the panic drained from her, leaving only the worry. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "I didn't think she'd go alone, Will. I thought she understood we needed more people to go with us."

A horrible suspicion began to grow in his mind. More people. Hmm. "Us?" He crossed his arms. "Explain."

She clasped her hands together almost primly. "Well, last night we came up with a plan for Christiana to go to Adhemar, claiming she'd been released from her posting. She'd ask to companion his mother. Rumor is that lady is ill at present and that her current companion left rather suddenly. Then, when she's settled, we'll trickle in wanting to work...."

"Am I the only sane one left?"

Wat raised a hand. "I'm sane."

Will rolled his eyes again. "Edward hasn't left to return to Aquitaine yet. You want a rescue plan? Here's mine. I go to Edward, have him send a directive to Adhemar requiring Kate to be returned unharmed."

"He's French, Will. Adhemar won't care what Edward writes."

"So Edward goes to Charles."

"It won't work."

"Why?"

"Political unrest."

"They'll negotiate."

"Over a peasant woman?" Jocelyn tossed up her hands. 

"I have to try proper channels first if I'm to be taken seriously at all, Jocelyn. My title means nothing to Adhemar if I go in on some half-formed plan. He'll be more inclined to take anything I say seriously if I do this properly."

And so Jocelyn agreed to wait, making her displeasure unmistakable in private. The meeting with her father was pleasant, though Will was certain by the man's occasional knowing stare that he knew very well what Will and Jocelyn had been up to in private. It was disconcerting. Even more disconcerting, strangely so, was discovering that Jocelyn's stepmother was a year younger than Jocelyn. Jocelyn ignored her as much as she could, concentrating herself upon her father and making a tiny request about Christiana.

Will didn't hear what the request was, but he imagined it had something to do with the rescue plan. Oh, he wasn't under any illusions that he'd truly stayed Jocelyn. No, she was going to go ahead with her plan and claim she wasn't. He didn't have the heart to tell her she was being obvious.

Upon returning, Wat gave him news. Edward had already left, but Joan was still in London, checking her estates and completing some minor business. She'd graciously assented to see Sir William first thing in the morning. With any luck, the two of them could find some way to help Kate through official channels. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter 7

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Joan is purported to have been auburn haired, but in the movie at the end, the woman beside Edward is blond. So, I've assumed the blond was supposed to be Joan and made _this_ Joan a strawberry blond, a compromise so to speak, between movie canon and historical fact.

****

For those wondering: the next chapter will feature Kate and Adhemar again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Princess Joan was one of the most beautiful women Will had ever known, and also one of the most gracious. She was sweet and kind, with a quick mind and common sense to go with it. She'd greeted him into her home as though he was an old friend instead of one newly made. He wasted no time giving the reason for his request of an audience and once he'd told all, she leaned back in her chair, fingers under her chin. She thought a long while, then shook her head with a rueful smile.

"Lady Jocelyn was right, I'm afraid. There's little we can do politically. Edward could always decline to pay Count Adhemar's army until the return of your friend, but that would turn bloody rather quickly. Count Adhemar is not known for his patience in waiting for his pay."

Will nodded. "I was afraid of that. I was hoping that something could be done through official channels."

Joan glanced at her maids, who sat close enough for proprieties' sake and far enough away to give them privacy to speak. "Well, there's other things to consider, Sir Will. You can still make use of the channels of nobility."

The what? He blinked, and his confusion must have shown plainly, for she gave a gentle laugh. "You've allies. You could use them. You made friends with several of the younger knights. You could use the connection with them. Ask them for aid. Or..." Her smile turned sly. "You could contact Count Adhemar's mother. She's English you know."

No, he hadn't known that. "What good would that do?" He hated to appear dense, but he couldn't figure out what she meant. How would contacting the man's mother bring Kate to safety?

Joan turned in her chair. "There's a mother who loves her son. She'll overlook much of his character. However, send her a letter, stating your intent of mounting an attack on them unless your friend is returned --"

"I've no army, my lady. My new friends would not be much of an army. Besides, I'm not a battle hardened soldier. I can't go up against Adhemar's men. The man alone, yes, but not his entire army."

Her glance looked him over in a way that was almost disturbing, as though she was seeing far more of him than he'd offered. The sensation of that passed quickly though and Will thought he'd imagined it. "You underestimate yourself. Wars, Sir Will, have been fought by men over the stupidest of things, as history tells us. You could wage war over this Kate and no one would bat an eye."

He shook his head. "I won't go to his mother. It seems...underhanded to me to do so."

She nodded. "You and my husband. You both reach for ideals most men do not aspire to. It would not have to be his mother, Sir Will. He's several living siblings. Four brothers, three sisters. All tied to influential families here in England, in Aquitaine and in France. They could urge him to release her, put pressure on him to do so."

"No. I'd sooner go to the man himself, though I know he won't take me seriously. I told Jocelyn I have to go through proper channels to get Adhemar to take me seriously, but I fear that is impossible. He'll never see me as anything more than an upstart peasant."

Getting from her seat, Joan motioned him to his feet. "No, Sir Will. He'll never see you as anything more until you start believing you are more. Stop pretending and be." She led him to the door, her arm linked through his. "I can think, offhand, of no other way to take your friend back through official channels. All that's left is whatever you can decide upon. If you won't take advantage of the doors opening to you, I can't give you any more. I'm sorry."

He left, no closer to saving Kate than when he'd arrived.

~~~~~~~~~~

Without Kate to talk to, the ride back to London was a long and boring one. Germaine decided he'd try the stable and the Red Pony first, see if William Thatcher was still there. Then, if the man and his group of friends had gone, he'd try going to Lady Jocelyn's family.

He wouldn't allow thoughts of failure to settle in his mind. Failure to locate Thatcher was a big fear though. Germaine didn't particularly want to rescue her alone. He'd be far more comfortable with men at his back. Adhemar's wrath wasn't something he wanted to experience, but he'd set out with Kate and he shouldn't leave her to the man. It wasn't the thing to do.

He rode all day, a slow, steady pace, taking brief stops. At night, he rested and started again in the morning. Only two days had passed since leaving Adhemar's service and it felt like years. Two mornings ago, his lord had demanded Germaine find Kate. Two mornings ago, Germaine had set himself upon this journey....

A figure was coming along the road, riding slow like he was. Germaine waited, suddenly eager to have someone to talk with a moment. He'd not seen too many travelers on this road. The man drew closer and Germaine gave a tiny smile. His idea to get help must be one that pleased God above, for it was one of Thatcher's men riding towards him.

"Roland!" He called out, pleased when the man looked up and urged his mount faster. They met, Germaine startled to see weariness and pain on those features.

"Germaine." Roland's voice was dull, emotionless. "Where's Kate?" He glanced behind Germaine on the road, the light of hope in his eyes. Germaine hated to crush it, but crush it he must.

"My lord Adhemar. He found us." He found he could still not say the name without 'my lord' before it. Old habits and one he hoped to have the chance to break.

Roland's gaze turned speculative, then suspicious. "And you've gone free? How does that work, Germaine? Did you hand Kate over and come back to draw the rest of us in? Or did you exchange her for your freedom?"

Dismounting, Germaine shook his head, endeavoring to explain. "I couldn't wake her. She was exhausted, not even stirring. I stayed longer than I should have trying to rouse her from slumber, but she slept like a corpse."

The man quieted, then started to laugh, great peels of bitter tinged chuckles. What was so humorous, Germaine wondered, waiting patiently for an explanation. When Roland managed to get himself calmed, he also dismounted. "We've both betrayed her then, left her to Adhemar. Best not continue on to London, friend. Lady Jocelyn will rip you to shreds if you arrive without Kate and tell what happened."

Germaine blinked, shook his head. "What do you suggest then?" A polite query. It would do no harm to listen. Besides, Roland knew the group better than he, and if he thought Germaine shouldn't continue, then perhaps he shouldn't. Really, it would be far too distressing to be on the bad side of Sir Thatcher, the man Wat, and Lady Jocelyn as well as Adhemar. Even Sir Thatcher's herald may not be as even-tempered as he appeared. Smugly arrogant, yes, but even-tempered? Who knew better than Roland? He should listen to this man.

"What was your plan?"

"My plan?"

"Yes. Are you deaf? Did you not hear me?" Impatience crossed Roland's features.

"Well, I'd planned to elicit the help of your lord and ride to Count Adhemar's main estate. He'll be wintering there with his mother. She's been ill recently and has asked him to come there. Not that he isn't usually in residence there, just that she wanted to make certain he wouldn't leave her alone with Helene."

Roland's brows rose sharply. "Helene?"

"Helene is...." How best to explain that one? Germaine had done his best to avoid her since his lord had brought the woman into the manor house. The woman was a mistress who aspired desperately to be a wife. She wanted to be Count Adhemar's lady so badly that she'd simply assumed the role, when all his lord had wanted was a pretty bedmate in residence should he want one. No one could convince her otherwise and Count Adhemar had yet to realize just how ambitious Helene was.

No, Germaine thought, he wouldn't. It would be difficult to realize that fact when he wasn't in residence much of the year. Once, Germaine had attempted to bring up the subject and his lord had scoffed at the idea that Helene was anything other than content in her role as mistress. _She knows better_, he'd said. _Helene knows her place._

Shows how much his lord really knew.

Helene ordered everyone about, having nearly daily verbal clashes with the Steward and with his lord's mother, Isobelle. Isobelle, truly a lady to the core, hadn't expressed any opinion on the woman whatsoever, giving a genteel raise of her eyebrows when Helene overstepped her bounds, which was often. Germaine's taste in women didn't usually include tall, yet plump blond women with a tendency towards bitchiness. He preferred a gentler woman, slight of build and small of stature; a woman he could feel he was protecting. Helene kept him firm in his choices and he'd just as soon dump Helene down a privy and leave her there.

"Yes, Germaine?"

"Helene is a problem Kate will face, whether she's willing to be with Alain Adhemar or not."

"Well, quite beating about and tell me who she is."

"His current, and rather explosively jealous, mistress."

"How jealous?" Roland asked, setting his hands upon his hips and tilting his head a fraction.

Germaine paused, considering the best example of Helene's jealousy and vindictiveness. "There was a peasant girl named Susan that my lord took a fancy to the last time we were home. She was a pretty girl, not exceptionally beautiful, but pretty. When Susan wasn't waiting where and when my lord had told her to, he sent me to find her. She was dead. Strangled, and Helene had scratch marks on her. Helene tried to explain them away by claiming she'd fallen in a bramble bush while out riding. Helene hadn't gone out riding in nearly a week and she hadn't had those scratches that afternoon."

"I see." Roland glanced at the road ahead. "We'd best move then. I've hurt Kate enough without losing my chance to make it up to her. I'd die myself to find this Helene had killed her."

"You want to go there? Just the two of us?" He managed to keep most of the incredulity from his tone. To go there without more men was either stupid or optimistic. Both, he decided, coupled with desperation and naïvety.

"Yes."

Why not? He'd wanted a life apart from his lord and it seemed this was all he was going to get. Why not enjoy it while it lasted and make it an adventure worth it all? "Very well. Let's ride."


	8. Chapter Eight

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter 8

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Sexual innuendo ahead. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The decision to not eat was one of the hardest Kate had ever made, for she was ravenous. It was necessary however, to divert suspicion for when she drugged them all. If she began a pattern of self-starvation now, it was likely he wouldn't be suspicious later at her refusal to eat.

It was extremely difficult to hang on to that when he waved food in her face. A plate was before her, piled high with savory roasted meats. Beside the plate, a large chuck of fragrant bread sat on a cloth, cheese also there, with butter in a little jar beside them. Kate's mouth watered and she had to clasp her hands firmly together in her lap to keep from taking up some tantalizing morsel. It all smelled agonizingly good.

There was a dish of fruit as well, set between her and Adhemar, apples slices and the last strawberries of the season, as well as other berries. Her stomach would not stop growling, a loud insistent sound that she imagined could be heard for miles. _He_ heard it too. Every time it growled, he'd smile pleasantly and offer her a bite.

Torture. This was torture and she regretted the impulse to refuse nourishment. Her gaze found the man across from her. He was eating slowly, savoring each succulent bite. He'd lift some meat to his lips, place it in his mouth and chew slowly, taking an almost sensual pleasure in the act of eating. Occasionally, he'd take up a sample of the fruit. Kate could imagine him rolling the tart apple over his tongue, or the tart-sweet strawberries, just to relish the taste.

The thought brought other thoughts on its heels, half remembered moments of his mouth moving slowly over her skin. Kate crossed her arms, forcing herself to glance about the clearing. Couldn't he hurry up? Did he have to eat with such care to every bite? Her foot tapped on the ground.

"Have you no hunger at all?"

She returned her gaze to him. He was watching her, the smug little curl of a grin on his lips, indicating he was taking his time with the meal only in an effort to annoy her.

"Or are you simply being stubborn?" His words were said with the same care he was taking with the meal.

Kate remained silent, trying to keep scorn in her eyes and finding it difficult to met his probing stare. She clenched her hands tighter.

"Well," he sat back, taking a sip of wine. "Perhaps it's not food you're hungry for, hmm?" A lazy light had entered his eyes, his voice a caressing purr. Her heart beat fast in her breast. "Really, Kate, you should eat _something_."

"I'm not hungry for anything you offer," she said sweetly.

He got up from the chair, came around the table and crouched down beside her, picking up a strawberry. "You should try one of these. Not many left at all." Lifting it, he twirled it before her eyes.

Her stomach took that inopportune moment to growl loudly, Adhemar raising a brow.

"That answers me clearly. You're being stubborn. What is one bite, Kate? Or an entire meal? Do you think me a devil you'd be selling your soul to?" With that rakish tilt to his brow, he certainly resembled a devil. "No, I think you're afraid." The berry was run along her lower lip, slow sweeps back and forth.

"I'm not afraid. I'm just not hungry." She had to lean back to keep any of that berry from slipping between her lips.

"Liar." His arm went along the back of the chair, the warmth of his fingers sliding, caressing along her shoulder blade. Her thin dress did nothing to give the illusion the touch was neutral. He was trying to seduce and she was determined to have none of it. "You want to eat so badly, Kate. I can see the longing in your eyes. One bite." Placing the berry at his own lips, he nipped a tiny portion off the end, then returned the berry to her lips. 

Strawberry juice wet her lip and Kate licked it away reflexively. Once more, her stomach growled. Why was he doing this? Why was he being nice and even-tempered instead of the horribly self-centered, vindictive man she knew him to be? "Stop."

"No. I want you to eat." Another nibble from the berry, more juice spread along her lip, his gaze lowering from hers to watch her tongue lick it away.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Haven't you gotten your way enough today?" He'd maneuvered her into bathing, into changing clothes and now he sought to maneuver her into eating as well.

"No." His free hand slid up her back to curve about her neck, fingers caressing in tiny little circles. "I'll make you a deal."

Kate was about ready to snatch that berry from him and cram it into her mouth, then start in on the plate of food that had most likely grown stone cold. "What sort of deal?" Her hands ached from how tight she had them clasped together.

"You eat this food and I'll let you ride your own horse today."

She blinked. "And if I don't?"

"I'll place you on my horse and we'll ride together. Before me, behind me, both have their benefits for me." He waited, expectantly.

Kate glanced about the camp. She could imagine what would happen if he made her ride with him. Set before him, he'd take that as license to let his hands roam and she'd likely be defending her modesty the entire ride. Likewise, he'd take her behind him as an opportunity to place her hands where he wanted. Which would she rather? Being fondled all day or food? Food. No further discussion needed.

At the next pass of the berry along her lower lip, Kate opened her mouth to take a bite of it. He teased her with it, drawing it slightly away each time she almost bit, until she grabbed his wrist and hand, holding it steady long enough to take a bite.

Adhemar relinquished the last bite of the berry to her, fingertips grazing her cheek. "Good girl."

She reached for the meat. "I'm not a girl."

"You look like one to me."

"I'm a woman."

Standing, he moved behind her, a slight improvement over him watching her face while she ate, except now she had to contend with him running his fingers through her hair. Strange, she'd not thought him a particularly affectionate man, the sort to like giving little touches here and there, but that's exactly what he seemed to be right now. His hands left her hair, trailed along her shoulder and arms, then returned to her hair, then her back. "What..." She licked her lips. "What're you doing?"

~~~~~~~~~~

He longed to watch her eat. He wanted to watch her tongue darting out, licking at her lips. Frustratingly, she refused to eat. Kate refused to take even one bite of nourishment into her and he thought on how to get her to. What was the thing she'd most want to avoid? Him, of course. 

So, he lit upon a plan, gave her an option. She had the illusion of control and he got to watch her eat. Her haste to choose food rather than riding with him might have stung the pride of a lesser man. Adhemar wasn't hurt by the decision. Not at all. He got exactly what he wanted.

Be careful what you wish for. That was something he'd heard over and over again through his life and never given much thought to the warning. It slammed full force into him right now though, as Kate's tongue licked the strawberry juice from her lower lip and her strong fingers held his hand so she could take a bite. Strong fingers. Strange that a woman's hand could hold such strength and still be feminine. 

He couldn't watch her. Not unless he wanted to scrap his plan entirely and force her, and he didn't want to do that. What he wanted, in the end, was to have her willing again, to sip of her glorious surrender and know he'd won this game they'd entered into.

So, he gave her the berry, moved behind her, frowning down at her as she worked on her meal, touching her here and there, taking advantage of her stillness. It was not only her hands that were strong, but her shoulders and arms, he could feel firm muscle there.

Adhemar chose not to answer her question, letting his actions speak for themselves. He liked her hair long, liked a woman to let her hair flow free over her shoulders. Kate's hair was still damp from her time in the water and he lifted the heavy mass in his hands, relishing the feel of it. He remembered her hair like a curtain about them....

"Stop." Kate reached back with both hands, taking her hair from him and knotting it, then bringing the ends over her shoulder.

"How old were you?" He asked, now sliding a forefinger along her exposed nape.

"Hmm?" She wiggled in the chair, turning this way and that and he was rather delighted that he'd made he squirm.

"When you married. How old were you?"

"None of your business."

"I've made it my business."

"That doesn't mean I have to answer."

The nape of her neck was a tempting spot. If he was remembering correctly, and he knew he was, she liked whisper soft kisses pressed there with just the tiniest swirl of tongue to the skin. Crouching down, he pressed his lips there. Kate's back went stiff, her hand knocking over the cup. She choked and began to cough. Amused at the response, Adhemar found the spot once more.

The response was a bit more...lively.

Kate swung her arms back, hitting at him as she scrambled from the chair. With a last cough, she drew in a deep breath. Her face was flushed, eyes wide. "Don't ever do that again!" she screeched, loud enough to cause birds in the nearby tree to take flight.

This was going to be entertaining. Even more fun than baiting Thatcher.

He stood, cocking a brow at her. "I do whatever I wish when I wish, Kate. You should know that by now."

She made no reply, crossing her arms over her breasts.

~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana was sorry she'd brought the cart and all of her belongings. She should have just brought a few clothes and some food and coin. Should have. There were so many things she was realizing she should have done before setting out. Telling Sir Will and Jocelyn she was going was one. It occurred to her that if something happened to her on this road, neither of them would know where to look for her.

She was proud of herself for having gotten this far alone and with a wagon nonetheless! She'd always traveled with Jocelyn or another person before, never by herself. It was daunting, but fun also. She could stop when she wanted, ride as long as she wanted. The only problem with traveling alone, was that it was, well, _lonely_. There was no one to talk to, to while the hours away with.

By night, she was bored, too bored to stop, so she kept riding until she was nearly falling asleep on the horse. After a quick sleep, she returned to her travel. Christiana was unable to sleep, nightmares of Kate being hurt by Adhemar surfacing and mingling with dreams of a charming Adhemar.

Jocelyn would have been shocked to find that Christiana truly found Count Adhemar attractive. It was an aesthetic attraction, a sort of appreciation for the dark good looks he'd been blessed with. She'd admit to herself a few idle daydreams where he'd ignored Jocelyn and focused on her, attempted to woo her. They were only daydreams though and she'd known his warm, teasing conversations were nothing more than attempt to make her his ally in the wooing of Jocelyn.

His praise for her discretion as a maid was false, his teasing that he'd have thought she and Jocelyn could be sisters had he not known better also false. Count Adhemar had flattered her outrageously and she'd known exactly what he was doing the entire time. It was nice to forget her station occasionally however, and she'd played that game with him, that hint of intrigue only for the excitement it offered.

She'd preferred William Thatcher, or Ulrich as he'd called himself, as a suitor for her lady, just as Jocelyn preferred him. Jocelyn and Adhemar were not suited at all. If they'd married, they'd have become tired of one another quickly.

Christiana sighed. She wondered what Roland was doing right now. Was he feeling as wretched as she? Was he missing her like she missed him? A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped at it. She missed those kisses he used to steal when no one was looking, his beard tickling at her skin. If he was here right now....

"A lone lady traveling?"

There was something oily in that voice and she looked around, surprised to find a man in the road. He was dirty, his clothes ragged and in ill repair. Beady eyes squinted beneath overly large and bushy brows, his thin lips set in a sneer.

"Come down from there."

She shook her head. There was no way she was going to climb down. She could imagine what he had planned and wanted nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, he didn't take no for an answer. She was grabbed, dragged down by a grimy hand in her hair, the other hand slapping at her face and bringing tears. Christiana closed her eyes. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening.

There was a rending sound as her dress was torn, cool morning air bathing her exposed chest. She could hear a high pitched whine, realizing suddenly that it was coming from her. The man hurled her to the ground, Christiana curling into a ball, waiting for whatever he was going to do.

Nothing happened.

She heard a strangled cry, a thud and silence. A presence near her. Should she look?

"Christiana?" The voice she heard sent a rush of relief through her body, a flood of emotion. She was safe.

She pushed her tangled hair from her face and looked up. Roland crouched before her, concern on his face. She wanted to say she was okay, wanted to fall into his arms and thank him for taking care of the horrid man before he could hurt her, but she couldn't. He'd think himself forgiven and she wasn't ready to forgive him just yet. "What're you doing here?" Her voice came out sullen.

"Saving your behind it looks like." Taking off his cloak, her spread it over her with only the barest of glances at her torn clothes.

Christiana welcomed the warmth and the cover, breathing in the scent the fabric held. "I don't need saving. Kate's..."

"The one needs saving," he finished for her, dusting his hands on his pants and standing, pointing a thumb at the man who'd come to stand beside him. Germaine, Adhemar's herald. "Where do you think we're headed?"

She pushed herself up from the ground, picking leaves and weeds from her skirts, shaking them into place, trying futilely to hold her bodice together beneath Roland's cloak. No matter where she closed the fabric, something improper was exposed. "Do you have a plan?"

"Of course we have a plan. Do you?"

"Of course I have a plan." She stared at the two of them a long moment, then shrugged and glanced away. "But I'm willing to go with yours if it's a better one."

Germaine kept his gaze on her face, for which she was eternally grateful. "Perhaps, Christiana, you should find a change of clothing in your belongings. Then, we'll talk."

She nodded and, giving Roland the coolest glance she could muster, Christiana moved to the wagon to search for a dress.


	9. Chapter Nine

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter 9

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Going off for vacation this week. There likely won't be a new chapter posted until the following week. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He was driving her insane. She had to do something and do it soon. Kate's nerves were being stretched to the breaking point. Every time they stopped, he would watch her. Now, that in itself she expected. With what he wanted from her, it was not odd. What she hadn't expected however, was how close he wanted to be to observe her.

Did he not understand that she wasn't comfortable with him inches from her, or was that his plan? Make her uncomfortable, keep her off-kilter and swoop down on her when her mind was whirling? She gave him a suspicious glance out of the corner of her eye. He was, thankfully, not riding directly beside her, but rather across the road and occupied in conversation with one of his men.

She hated how he'd come up behind her and simply stand, body almost, yet not quite brushing hers. She could feel the heat of him, smell the scent of him, that combination of strong soap and leather. No, she had to take that back. Hate was the wrong word. She liked it and hated herself for liking it. Yes, much more accurate. Still, it was driving her crazy that he took every opportunity to be close, his gaze devouring her, a bit of choice food on his plate. He'd savor her like he had the strawberries.

The wicked thought was fast pushed away, but not before a flood of warmth washed over her skin. 

Kate turned her thoughts elsewhere. She wondered how her friends were. Had Will met Jocelyn's family yet? Did they accept him? She rather thought they would. Having potential family with royal friends was not an every day occurrence for most people. Jocelyn made it seem commonplace, but Kate knew otherwise. Geoff had proclaimed Will exceptionally lucky and well-blessed by God above to have pulled off his stunt of impersonation to such an end.

__

Well, if we're being honest, Will, I'd expected you to rot in the stocks, Geoff had remarked once it was all over with. _Nobles don't take kindly to being impersonated and your guardian angel has been working overtime whispering in Prince Edward's ear. Luck, my friend, is certainly yours._

She let a tiny smile tug at her lips. Goeff had likely taken his leave of them. He'd told Kate long ago that he was only taking a rest from reality as he knew it and would need to resume his life eventually, which meant leaving the friends he'd made. He hadn't appeared sad at that thought, especially, but who could tell with that man? He was in a different league than the rest of them. It wasn't something obvious in his clothes or his speech exactly, but in how he'd handled himself and maneuvered about within the tournament life. Kate privately suspected a more noble upbringing than Geoff had ever admitted. How else could he have been able to wed Phillipa, one of the Queen's Ladies? He'd never said any more than that he'd had the benefit of learning scholarly things, an attempt, in Kate's eyes, to make them feel as though they were all on equal footing, downplaying the education he had.

Geoff was good at that, making people feel as though they were all equals. He'd tease good-naturedly about stations and such, yet never in her presence, had he bragged about his life. Indeed, they hardly knew much about him. They'd had to walk in on him and his wife to even discover that he was married. Geoff was a mystery and Kate hoped that one day, she'd have the chance to learn a bit more about Geoffrey Chaucer, spinner of tales and compulsive gambler.

The way it looked now, she wasn't going to be discovering anything about anyone except Adhemar. Risking a glance to him, she found his stare directed her way and in moments, he'd brought his horse beside hers and she was stuck with his companionship.

"I'm not the monster you think me, Kate."

"No, you're worse," she retorted. His stare was brimming with incredulity. She wished men would quit looking at her like that. It made her think she wasn't speaking plainly enough. "Well you are," she added matter-of-factly.

He snorted. "Pray tell me, Mistress Kate, how I am worse."

"You run after a woman who clearly wants nothing to do with you and force her to go with you. That, Count Adhemar, is a monstrous thing to do."

A laugh, little more than a chuckle. "You behave as though you didn't knock me to the floor in your eagerness to have at me. Don't you remember? Surely you didn't think you were un-acquiescent? Why, I've never been near a woman so eager that she pushed me over before. We made a rather spectacular crash to the floor." He warmed to the subject. "Your hands all over me, your mouth greedy....I've always been the pursuer, but with you, Kate, once you were in my room, you took that pleasure from me."

She bit her lip, attempting, and utterly failing to return his glance in a cool fashion.

"Not that I minded. A forward woman is on occasion a beautiful conquest."

"Conquest?" The word came out as a squeak. She still only had the faintest of memories on that night, dream-like hints of what had occurred. She felt as though her memory was behind a locked door, waiting for the proper key to open it and bring it fully to her.

"A suitable word. Don't you like it?"

"Not particularly. Nobody _conquers_ me."

His smile was sly. "We'll see about that."

Kate urged her mount to a faster pace, relieved when he didn't follow.

~~~~~~~~~~

She was so wonderfully under the illusion that she was independent. Adhemar watched her ride ahead. Most women he knew didn't consider themselves independent. They had a man or two or three to run their life for them. Kate was different in that respect, as if he'd needed more proof that she was different from other women.

How had she become that way? Not for the first time in the past couple days, Adhemar wondered on the sort of man Kate's husband had been. Was he the one who'd put those thoughts in her head and made her think she could live a woman alone in a man's world? Obviously, that hadn't worked out, since she'd traveled with Thatcher. He'd become her liege lord, so to speak, the one who directed her and gave her work. Thatcher hadn't been a true lord, but had acted as one to her.

Or had he? That band of men had held the oddest feeling of equality among them, as though they were all one station, one happy family regardless of where they really sat in the class levels. Even Jocelyn had seemed one of them, equal. An absurd thought, that a woman was equal to a man and could do man's work. Men ran the household, men went off to war and men were the head of the family. Woman was the helpmate, the one who gave birth and raised the children and kept the home fires burning when her lord and master was gone to war.

Like Helene. She knew her place. She didn't aspire to do man's things, like making a name for herself as a smithy. Helene was content in her role, knowing what a woman was meant to be for a man. Adhemar sighed. Not that Kate didn't know what to do with a man. Kate knew very well what to do and how to do it, in such a way that put Helene to shame.

He shifted in the saddle, lifting his gaze to visually caress Kate's slim back. In many ways, she put Helene to shame. In a fight, he'd bet on Kate. While Helene was taller, with a bit more weight to her, Kate was trim and fit from using those heavy tools of her trade. Kate would have no fear of appearing unfeminine by fighting dirty. The idea of her being cunning in that manner was a rather arousing one. She was a woman comfortable with herself, her reactions honest and uncontrived. This was a woman who said what she meant and had no fears of doing so. No games.

Well, except that one they two now played.

What would his mother make of her? Likely, she'd adore Kate because she wasn't Helene. His mother disliked Helene intensely, yet wouldn't outright say it, even when asked. She'd raise a brow and say, "Whatever makes you happy, Alain." It was frustrating at times to not be able to get a simple answer from that lady. Yes, she'd like Kate. His dainty, very much a lady mother, would be fascinated by her to no end.

He could almost picture the two of them together, two small beautiful women, for he thought his mother still a beauty, their heads bent together as Kate told Isobelle about herself and life as a farris. He could almost hear his mother's gentle laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

She marveled at how well the machinery of his traveling household ran for his entire entourage to have caught up with them so quickly. Had he been planning to leave that day anyway and been partially packed? Or was it just that each person performed his job in a seamless fashion with the others?

Both most likely. His tents could be raised in near the blink of an eye she found, unlike Will's tents. She recalled the struggles. She and the others had a horrible time off and on with those old tents. The ropes broke, poles snapped and the fabric was always snagging on things. The men would be red-faced and panting, snapping at each other and tossing off frustrated curses, forgetting they had a woman in their midst.

Without fail, Geoff would make a sarcastic comment Wat would take offense to and the two would end up beating on each other while Will and Roland finished the job alone or with her help.

Here though, with Adhemar, it was different. He ordered his tent raised, then stood to one side, arms crossed, as several men took care of it. No jokes yelled, no comments made, laughter exchanged, only stark, depressing efficiency. Kate longed to hear one muffled curse.

They settled down for the evening, Kate finding it pleasant before the fire until Adhemar sat beside her. Once more, he ignored her uncomfortable shifting, seeming to take great care that his arm brushed hers and that they were pressed together hip to foot. Every time she inched to her left to escape that touch, he inched also, and Kate was soon in danger of falling off the log they used as a seat.

His arm slipped about her waist, anchoring her there. "You could always sit on my lap, Kate."

"Don't even think it."

"I recall you sat on my lap in the room." There was a far away expression in his green eyes, as though he really was remembering.

She had no way of knowing, unless her memories suddenly decided to quite playing hide-and-seek, if he was making things up or speaking the truth.

His fingers squeezed her waist, spread along her hip in a gesture indicating familiarity. "You sat on my lap and we shared a bit of drink as we talked. You let me undo your bodice --"

"Stop." She counted herself lucky that he hadn't tried _that_ as he spoke.

"This was before you pushed me to the floor. We were taking time to get to know one another, your suggestion. Don't you remember?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes, I do." His hand did a circuit along her back, a gesture that Kate thought would look loving to those who watched them. He tangled the hand in her hair, she felt the slight tug on the strands.

A memory of her own surfaced, but it wasn't of the two of them, but rather of Roland and Christiana. They'd sit beside one another for long moments, giving each other tiny, coy glances and inviting smiles until Roland would slip his arm about her waist. Then, they'd lean into each other so slowly that Kate had been tempted more then once to go over to them and shove them together. The ritual was one that seemed to take forever and Kate found herself wishing that such a thing could be right now between herself and this man.

He was behaving in a human fashion, not the arrogant monster he was during the day, and a wistful sigh escaped her lips. She wished he'd keep caressing her back and neck the way he was, then lean over and kiss her with all the tenderness of a man with his true love. It was only a moment's fragmented wish, one she let slip back quickly into the dream world. Kate closed her eyes.

Alain Adhemar kissed her.


	10. Chapter Ten

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter Ten

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Any is welcome and greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~

One lesson that Alain Adhemar had learned well in his formative years was that, in order to get anywhere in life, one had to take chances. He'd grown quite willing over the years to take chances on things that were of importance to him. Lady Jocelyn, for example. It had seemed important to win her for a wife. She was everything his family insisted he have in a wife: beautiful with a large dowry. So, he'd done everything in his power to sway her and dispose of his rival for her affections.

Sometimes the chances one took could backfire and the last chance he'd taken with the lady had backfired most spectacularly on him, resulting in his fall from consideration as a suitor. It happened. He moved on. As irritating as his failure had been, there was no point in keeping after her, as Thatcher had been the victor. Although, it would be entertaining to toy with the two of them now and then.

One must learn from mistakes and step forward to a new venue.

He'd taken many chances in his life, paths sometimes hailed as foolish and distressing by his family, like his decision to remain a soldier after inheriting the title. In his opinion, he did both well and who was going to argue?

Taking chances. He was taking a chance on Kate. Her fiery spirit was admirable really. He hadn't the acquaintance of many women who'd dare to keep defying him as she did. Then again, he must remember that she wasn't like any other women he'd known. What made her so different wasn't something he could simply put a finger on. There was that defiance, yes, and her independence, yet he'd occasionally met other women like that who'd not bewitched him as she.

Bewitch _was_ the proper word for it. He found himself unable to keep from watching her, her slightest movement fascinating. In only a couple days, she'd managed to disrupt his daily life to a great extent. He would stand behind her, perusing her, attempting to reason her out, this unusual peasant woman who obviously wanted him yet held herself back. Why did she hold back? Time and again, he could come to no conclusion but that he had to study her more.

Did she remember anything of their romp amid the sheets? Her expression whenever he brought up the most delightful aspects of those hours indicated she was lacking those memories. Had she truly imbibed so much as to haze her memories? Did she not remember confessing to him her longings to once more feel the delicious sort of passion her husband had inspired? It was becoming clearer as the hours passed that she did indeed recall little of their time together that night.

The best way he could think of to make her remember was to bring about similar circumstances. He wanted her with a fervency that was a constant fire beneath his skin, but he didn't want her unwilling. No. He wanted more of the ardor she'd shown. The plan was to woo her, to slowly tempt and tease until she gave freely of herself. A woman's surrender, given generously, was far more beautiful than lukewarm compliance.

And so, when Kate tilted her head the tiniest fraction, a dreamy expression in her eyes and a flicker of longing on her pretty face, Adhemar took a chance and kissed her.

Her response took him by surprise in a wonderful way. His expectation was that she'd pull away as though burned by his touch, give an outraged gasp and smack her hand roundly upon his cheek. He'd braced himself for the probability.

That, however, was not what occurred.

Her lips parted beneath his, accepting the kiss in such an agreeable manner that he could not help the surge of satisfaction flooding his veins as a warm rush. She opened herself to him, her hands slipping up and into his hair. He could not pull away, held firm to her. Not that he minded in the slightest.

Adhemar hooked his arm beneath her knees, hauling her slight weight onto his lap, as he'd previously mentioned. The effort was not such that he had to pause in the kiss that was turning into a string of wild, abandoned kisses. So heartening was this response from her, that he began figuring in his head just how many steps he'd have to take to carry her across the clearing and through the tent to his bed.

Anticipation curled lovingly about his limbs, his fingers finding the hem of her dress and sliding beneath it, caressing upward along the bare flesh of her leg. He squeezed her knee.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate knew perfectly well that she shouldn't play with fire. So what was she doing? Giving in to the impulse to kiss him back, to see if those hot promises in his eyes were merely promises or if he could back them up with action. 

Her fingers buried in his thick hair, she came to the sudden realization that this man was dangerous. Well, she'd known he was dangerous in a rather general sense, but this danger she recognized was a personal danger to herself. As much as Kate would like to deny the attraction she felt for him, it was impossible to keep doing so. She had to get away from him. The sooner the better, starting now.

Her fingers clenched, yanked his head back from hers. Their lips parted with a faint whoosh of breath. "Let go of me!" she gasped, staring into eyes that held a slight dazed and out of focus expression. That expression cleared, replaced by...what? Kate couldn't decipher the look in his eyes now. Impatience, regret and...longing perhaps?

Adhemar removed his hands from her, spread his arms wide. Her dress remained bunched at her knees. "It would appear that _you_ are the one holding on to _me_."

Kate scrambled from his lap, losing her balance and falling onto her back on the ground. She looked up at him, her heart pounding. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to keep calm at all times. She wasn't supposed to find herself flustered and tripping over her own feet, gaping up at him, yet again, from a semi-supine position.

He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, clasping his fingers loosely together. The familiar satisfied smirk appeared.

"I was lost in memories," she blurted out. "You took advantage of that!"

He nodded as if in agreement. "Of course I did. Keep telling yourself that. Eventually you'll believe it."

"It's true." She pushed herself up and to her feet, ignoring the hand he stretched out to aid her. "I think I've had enough chatting. I'm tired." It had been made clear to her that she was to sleep in his tent, her bag placed there along with his things. There was no avoiding it and all Kate wanted right now was time alone. She crossed her arms.

A long stare was directed her way and slowly, he gave a nod. "You may retire I suppose."

She _may_ retire? "I don't need your permission."

"Then why," He stood, coming to her and tilting her chin up with his forefinger, "did you say anything? You could have walked away with a simple 'good night'." His glance turned to the tent doorway and back to her. "Or was that an invitation to join you?"

Kate slapped his hand away. "It most certainly was not an invitation!" His mocking laughter followed her into the tent. Thankfully, Adhemar didn't follow her and Kate set about making a bed for herself on the ground. Men were stationed around the perimeter of the tent, a guard against her escape she was sure.

Hell. Kate let out a soft curse. She was beginning to see Adhemar as a very desireable man and for that very reason, Kate had to find a way to escape him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn had never in her life been alone as she was now. Always, there'd been someone with her, whether it was family or servant. For years, Christiana had been her constant companion, so she was used to having someone there to share her thoughts and feelings with.

She moved restlessly about the chamber she'd taken at the inn. A great feeling of loneliness was closing over her and had been closing since they'd realized Christiana was gone. Their group was shrinking. Their group. A tiny smile played about the corners of her lips. She'd begun to think of them all as friends, something that would horrify many of her acquaintances back home. That she'd become friends with peasants would be shocking, but really, Jocelyn didn't see any difference between peasants and nobles except titles and money.

They were all people, though she did know of some nobles who considered peasants a sort of animal. It was ridiculous, in her opinion. Men were men. All were created by God and considered equal in God's eyes. It was men who created titles and class distinction.

She sighed, tossing aside the scarf she'd been bunching in her fingers and watching it flutter to the floor. Friends were friends, regardless of if they were noble or not and she was feeling lost without the large group. Kate, Geoffrey, Roland and Christiana were gone. Only she, Wat and Will remained and Wat might as well be gone also for all the time he'd spent with them that day.

Will had been nothing but reassuring that they'd get Kate back safely. He'd asked her to help him pen several letters and she had. They wrote to the noble friends Will had made among the competitors and while it was a good effort, Jocelyn was skeptical that any of those young men would stick their necks out against Count Adhemar over a woman. Perhaps if there was land and money involved as well they'd be more inclined. Out of the bunch, Will was the only one she'd observed as having a proper knightly attitude.

She'd been right about the politics. There was no help for them there in rescuing Kate. Jocelyn had held a tiny hope that Will and Princess Joan could find political recourse, while knowing there was none. In this area she knew more than Will, having grown up in nobility, but he was noble now, by Prince Edward's decree and he had to learn for himself. Jocelyn could not teach him everything, for he'd come eventually to resent her constant correction and their love and affection for each other would wan.

In case Christiana was successful in hiring at Adhemar's home, Jocelyn had asked her father to be ready with a story of dismissing the young woman. He'd not objected, merely asking her reasons. She'd abbreviated the story and made it sound like a friend was in dire need of companionship and Christiana was the only woman capable of giving that companionship. He'd offered to procure another maid for her, but Jocelyn had declined. Christiana would be back someday, she was sure. And so, Christiana would be above suspicion were she to be hired.

Wrapping her cloak about her, Jocelyn left her room and went to Will's door, rapping her knuckles lightly upon the panel. After a moment, Will opened the door. He looked to have been sleeping, his hair tousled and eyes tired, but let her in without a word.

"I'm lonely," she said, removing her cloak and setting it over a chair. "I'd not imagined months ago that I'd enjoy so many friends only to lose them all in the space of a single day."

He came to her, drawing her against him and stroking her hair. "We'll rescue Kate soon. Then everyone will return and it'll be like no one left at all." The words were encouraging, but Jocelyn heard the doubt underneath the tone.

She turned her face up to his, shaking her head sadly. "That's a dream, Will and we both know it. We may succeed in rescuing Kate, yes, but I doubt she'll be the same woman who left here. Christiana and Roland will never reconcile. She was too angry with him and..."

His fingers on her lips stopped her. Will closed his eyes for a brief moment, then took a long slow breath. Jocelyn waited, for it was clear he was gathering his thoughts and needed an uninterrupted second. "I have faith that Kate is healthy and well at this second. We'll try Adhemar first, but Jocelyn, we don't know he's found her. Not for certain. We're all assuming he has, but it's quite possible Kate has managed to slip away from him as she intended." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "We _cannot_ go off fearing the worst, or the worst will likely happen."

Jocelyn nodded, but her fear and loneliness stayed with her well into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

I am forever waking up to nasty shocks, Kate thought, gingerly picking up Adhemar's wrist and flinging it away from her breast. He woke with a snort, lifting his head and staring at her crossly. She stared right back. The longer she spent in his company, the more apparent it was that he wouldn't actually physically hurt her. Intimidate, yes. Hurt, no. He might manhandle her, but his fist wouldn't strike her flesh in anger.

Sometime in the night, he'd moved her from her place on the floor and she now laid on the sumptuous bed. It was heaven beneath her back and the sheets were blissfully soft. The only thing marring her pleasure was him. He had no right to move her.

"What's _your_ problem?" he grumbled, sitting. The covers slid from him, pooling in his lap, revealing his nicely muscled chest. One hand scratched absently at his collarbone.

"You moved me."

He blinked at her accusatory tone. "Your point?"

"I was perfectly comfortable on the floor."

Adhemar snorted, then laid back down, yanking her against him. "I wasn't."

He wasn't what? Kate pondered his answer for a few seconds, trying to ignore the feel of him molding her against his lean body. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He groaned, sighed and shoved her hair from her ear, speaking against her neck. "It means, Kate, that I wasn't comfortable sleeping on the ground when this nice, soft bed was available. Besides, you refused to relinquish enough blanket for me to be warm. Discussion over. Go back to sleep."

He'd curled up on the floor with her?

Adhemar's breath slowed again, his body relaxing and he began to snore. Not harsh sounds, but rather a gentle snorting every other breath. Why would he do that? Why would he lay beside her on the ground to begin with? It didn't make sense. Kate remained still, listening to the sounds of the camp beginning to stir, pondering that action. There was no reason for him to sleep on the ground with her to begin with. Why had he tried?

With a sigh, she eased out from under the heavy weight of his arm and left the tent. Outside, there was one man awake that she could see, cooking over the fire. Kate strode to him, glanced at the pot. They were having porridge for the morning meal and it was already scorched, she could see black specks in cereal. Smothering a grimace, Kate accepted the small portion the young man ladled into a bowl. After a single bite, Kate set her bowl aside and watched the man attempt to fix the taste. Finally, she stood and went to him. "You're Thomas, yes?"

He nodded distractedly. "Mm-hmm."

"You don't cook usually do you?" As Kate watched, she realized this was the perfect time to add the herbs she'd gathered to the food. All the men ate in the morning, so it would be guaranteed to reach every one.

A pause in his task, dark eyes meeting hers before he shook his head. "No. My first attempt."

Kate favored a crooked smile upon him. "I could help, you know. I've done a bit of cooking in my life."

He glanced about the camp. It was still early and few were stirring. He was likely weighing the chances of anyone finding out she'd helped him and the sort of kidding he'd possibly receive. "Can this be fixed?"

Kate took the spoon from him, stirred the large pot and pretended to think. "With some herbs the scorched taste could be masked."

"Herbs?"

"Mm-hmm. I think I still have some dried cooking herbs in my bag. Let me look." Kate, her heart pounding hard in her chest, hurried to remove the herbs from her bag before Adhemar woke and saw her. She was successful. 

Thomas was not suspicious. In fact, he readily helped her stir the herb into the porridge, along with other seasonings. However, he didn't like the taste. "Perhaps if we added bits of meat?" He suggested.

The man warmed to the concoction, adding the meat that he'd roasted on the fire until the porridge was more like a stew than porridge. The meat did the trick. He ate a bowl, praising Kate's quick thinking. "You are wondrous. Thank you. My lord will be pleased with this."

Kate smiled sweetly and tried not to think how beautiful escaping Adhemar was going to be. She didn't want to jinx her chances.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter Eleven

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Thank you to those who have reviewed. I appreciate your input.

~~~~~~~~~~

Calm descended over Kate, a blessed welcome calm that wrapped her up like a warm blanket. Escape was within her grasp and suddenly she became the goddess of calm. Her mind was clear in a detached sort of way. It won't be long now, she thought. A couple hours at most and then I'll be free of him. Adhemar came from the tent, tossing off an order that it be dismantled as he walked into the woods. In minutes he returned, coming to the fire and taking the bowl Thomas offered him.

Kate took a moment to study him. With luck, this would be the last chance she'd really have to look at him. She took the time to imprint this image into her brain. For some reason she was uncertain of, she needed to remember him right as he was. His hair was combed and he looked to have made an effort at shaving. The sunlight filtering through the treetops played lovingly along his chiseled features. Black clothing adorned his tall, lean frame and he carried his coat. No white shirt today. He did look good in black and she imagined he often wore that color because of his efforts at being a soldier. A soldier would want clothes that would mean no fussing was necessary, in colors and fabrics that could hide such things as grass stains, mud and blood.

His hair curled against his neck and she recalled how soft his hair was against her fingers, the thick curls silky. Her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips, her eyes narrowing. She didn't need to be thinking about that, not now. This, right here and now, was only to put him in memory. She could think all she liked about the silky texture of his hair when she was safely miles from him. Kate turned her thoughts to where she'd woken. His bed was undeniably the most luxurious place she'd rested her weary body in a long while, but why on earth had he moved her from the ground?

It was out of character for what she knew of him, though she had to concede that she really knew little of him save the things she'd heard whispered. Then of course, there were those things she'd learned as he'd gone up against Will for the hand of fairest Jocelyn. Kate had not thought him the sort to bother making a peasant woman comfortable. He had though. He'd lifted her from the bed she'd made for herself on the ground and brought her up onto his bed. Why?

"If you stare at me any harder, Kate, I swear I shall blush from the perusal." Hazel eyes glanced her way, Kate's insides warming alarmingly at the teasing gleam those orbs held. Wonderful. He was in another good mood. She decided to be on her guard quite a bit more vigilantly than she'd anticipated.

"I don't think anything could cause _you_ to blush," she retorted.

He took one bite of the concoction she'd helped Thomas create, chewed, swallowed, then set the bowl aside. "How little you know me, Kate."

"How little I care." She crossed her arms, nodding at the bowl. "You should eat, if your plan is to spend the day traveling with few stops. Like yesterday." It wouldn't do to appear too eager for him to eat. No, that would only serve to make him suspicious and Kate certainly didn't want him delving too closely into what had been put in the porridge to flavor it.

He shook his head with a grimace that rivaled some of Wat's best grimaces. "Tastes burned. Let the men have it all. I'll eat bread."

Panic came quickly, breaking the calm that encased her. He had to eat more than that. He hadn't even taken a big enough bite to do more than make him slightly uncomfortable. Kate picked up the discarded bowl, stirred the contents. "Burned? Mine didn't taste burned. It tasted quite well."

"You eat it then, if your appetite is...vigorous." Adhemar leaned back on his hands, head turned a bit, watching her with an enigmatic turn to his lips.

Dear God, did he suspect something? Had he seen her take the herbs from her bag and guessed? Her heart thudded heavily, her pulse a hard pounding in her temples. The bowl she held trembled in her hand and she set it back down. "No, I've had my fill already. Couldn't eat another bite."

He leaned towards her, staring at her so long that she began to wonder if she'd developed green spots all over her face or something of the sort. Calm, be calm, she thought, desperation beginning to chew at her. He doesn't know anything. He was asleep remember? There is no way this man knows --

Her chin was caught between his forefinger and thumb, face tilted up. "What are you up to, Kate?"

Silence for a moment. The camp had come alive, men's voices filling the air. "Nothing," she whispered, forcing herself to keep meeting his eyes.

Adhemar lifted his free hand, pushed her hair from her face with a gentle touch. "Could your heart possibly be softening towards me?"

No sound would come from her lips, though Kate sputtered to speak. No. No softening at all, thank you very much, she thought. Arrogant man. 

"That long, passionate stare, the concern for my welfare if I do not eat. Oh Kate, you should admit it now. My tent is still raised." His free hand indicated that place. "We could indulge ourselves..."

Kate stood. "Not likely. And you can starve for all I care."

Adhemar laughed, a long chuckle at her expense, then also stood and moved to the nearest group of his men. She watched them, waiting for some sign of gastric distress from the men who'd already eaten. The mood of the camp was one of leisure this day, as though there was nothing pressing them at any specific pace. Fine. It'd make it easier to leave if they were all in one place. The man made the rounds of his men, talking to them, laughing with them. That silence she'd observed had been broken and it took her a moment to realize why.

Half of the men were gone. Only the rough and tough remained of what had been a sizeable traveling household. Looking closer, she identified the crests of several houses represented, mulling over what that meant. Adhemar had sent the others...where? Had they gone on ahead or slipped back along the road towards London? Why did these men remain?

He returned to her, tilting his head and raising his brows in mute question. When she said nothing, Adhemar spoke. "Something bothering you, Kate?"

"Why do you care?"

"It's not a matter of caring, woman. Pure curiosity. You seem rather, how shall I put this, confused at the moment. Naturally, I want to dispel any confusion."

She turned all the way around in place, taking in the camp at large. "Where did the rest of them go?"

A smirk, very near an oily grin, pulled at his lips. "Away."

"Away?" He didn't clarify and Kate's heart pounded hard once more in her breast. This was becoming tedious, this constant up and down of her nerves. Was he doing it deliberately? Kate rather thought he was doing it to vex her, the despicable, horrible, arrogant, devious type of man he was. "Back to London?"

"No, no. Not London."

"Well then where?"

That master of the manor expression returned to his face. "Surely you didn't think that with your delectable person firmly in my grasp, that I'd forgotten the disobedient Germaine? Really Kate, be sensible. He must be found and dealt with. I'll not have other men thinking they can just take off on their own like that. It wouldn't do."

There came a shout from across the camp. "My lord!"

Kate had visions of Germaine being hunted down like wild game, beaten and dragged back to this man for punishment. Just what would he consider just? Would he even think justly? A swell of pity hit her for poor Germaine, but then her mind decided to comment. _Poor Germaine? Poor? That herald left you for Adhemar. He up and left you, not bothering to wake you. He deserves to be caught._

Adhemar was instantly alert, his hand snaking out to grasp Kate's arm in a firm grip even as he turned his full attention to the man coming towards him. She noticed Adhemar's free hand rubbing at his stomach. The man coming towards them was pale, as in sickly pale, sweat dampening his brow.

"My lord, the men are coming down ill. It's all of us." He half bent, clutching at his stomach and moaning.

Kate had never seen men become so ill so quickly before. In minutes, those who'd eaten were in agony and she was furiously thinking. This was not what was supposed to happen. The men weren't supposed to be in pain like this. The herb was supposed to cleanse the bowels, not....She winced at the sounds of several men retching in the bushes. She couldn't have been wrong about the herb. No.

Horror caused her to gasp, her mouth opening and eyes widening. Oh no. She _had_ picked the wrong herb. The gasp alerted Adhemar and he whirled her in front of him, taking her face in both his hands. "What do you know of this? You'd better tell me, Kate." His grip was tight, fingers digging into her flesh. "Now. What is wrong with my men?"

Now, she thought. Do it now. Her hands grabbed the knife from his belt, brought the blade up by his face. She didn't intend to slice his face, but he didn't know that. Adhemar released her, stepping back at the glint of metal. The surprise on his features was comical and she could see his gaze already assessing her as an opponent. Not much of one, he'd be thinking. "I just want to leave," she whispered. "They'll be fine soon." That wasn't certain though. She'd no idea how long it took for the herb to be purged from the system.

He lunged for her. Kate whirled, dropping to a crouch and scooping up a rock with her free hand. Turning back, she lobbed it at him, stunned when it actually hit his brow. He staggered, fingers going to the spot, touching the blood that trickled from the cut it had made. "Kate." His voice went guttural, his expression changing once more. This was a man fast losing his temper.

With a yelp, Kate fled the camp, Adhemar directly behind her. She crashed through underbrush, making a path where there was none, moving away from the road. This escape could have gone a bit better, the critical voice inside her drawled. She could barely hear Adhemar screaming her name above the rush of blood pounding in her ears. Twice she fell, scraping one hand on a partially buried branch and nearly losing the knife. Dimly, Kate became aware that she was crying.

She fell into a clearing, literally, her feet going out from under her. Adhemar was close and she could imagine him cool in his rage at her, like she'd seen him at tournament. When she tried to rise, her legs threatened to not hold her weight. _No, please no. Get up and move!_ She stumbled up and forward just as he too came into the clearing. He charged at her, heedless of the knife she swung at him.

The only sound between them were their hoarse breathes and grunts of exertion. Sweat poured down Kate's face and slickened her palms. The knife grip grew slippery with the sweat. Adhemar's hands reached for her arms and she gave a choking gasp as the knife connected with his flesh and slipped from her grasp. He snatched that hand back, glancing at the cut across his forearm. An animalistic growl came from low in his throat. Blood dripped to the ground.

Kate threw herself back from him, finding her back up against a tree and him still advancing. Frantically, she groped along the tree side, her hand closing around a fallen branch. With a yell, she swung it. Adhemar threw an arm up, but the branch still caught him hard. He staggered and Kate swung again. This time, the branch was blocked by his left hand. A pained noise left his lips, the branch ripped from Kate's grasp, leaving a large splinter in her palm.

He dropped to the ground and she yanked the splinter free, pressing her hand to her skirt. She had no time to look at it now. It'd have to be later. Kate took two steps, freedom in sight.

She would have escaped, too, had he not grabbed her ankle just then in a grip so tight she'd have to lop off his hand at the wrist to remove it. Kate gave a scream of frustration, shaking her leg in a futile effort to make him let go. She hopped unsteadily on one foot, frantically trying to think of a way to get free.

Nothing was coming to mind.

She'd exhausted every option. Her tears were sloppy things, streaming down her face and blurring her vision. She desperately wanted to be away from this man, however, she was thwarted at every turn.

He lifted his head, a cold, livid gleam in his eyes. That gleam frightened her. He was done being generous, it seemed to say. His detachment was gone and Kate faced the real Adhemar, passionate and unrestrained in his ire.

"No, no, let go!"

Blood dripped down his face from the still bleeding wound on his brow, his lip curling in a snarl. "Bitch," he growled, his injured left hand shooting forward and, despite the broken finger, grabbing her right ankle. He pulled.

Kate landed hard on her rear and back, the wind knocked from her. She wheezed, struggling to bring in a breath, Adhemar subduing her. This is becoming a regular occurrence, she thought grimly. Blood dripped off him onto her and she kept her defiant gaze firmly on his angry one.

"You, woman, are trouble, more trouble than any woman is worth."

"Let me go," she said slowly and clearly.

"Like hell," he yelled, turning and spitting blood and saliva to the side.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" She'd done everything she could to hurt him and escape this day. She'd drugged the camp, thrown a rock at his head, used his own dagger to slice at him, broken one of his fingers and hit him with a thick branch. She'd done all that and still he refused to release her.

For a moment, Kate actually thought he might tell her.

However, that passed, his hands gripping her wrists, dragging her to her feet with him. He staggered and Kate staggered with him. If he fell, there was no way she could keep from falling as well. She gasped in breath, waiting for that moment when he lost his balance and his heavy weight would bear her to the ground.

Adhemar blinked rapidly, transferred both her wrists to one hand, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. The blood from his wound smeared, a red streak on his brow. They returned to camp, Kate trembling and slightly weak from the passing of her burst of energy to escape.

It was over. There was no escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

If she'd not loosed that horrified gasp, Adhemar reflected through a head that felt ten times larger than normal, he'd not have realized she'd anything to do with the illness. The glimpse of panic on her face as he'd swung her before him had brought that knowledge home. She'd drugged his men. Poisoned them somehow. The sheer audacity of that shocked him and very little could shock him any more. Kate had managed what few people ever did in life. She'd caught him by surprise with a deviousness worthy of himself.

He was mad, furious really. And yet, there was a definite grudging admiration for her spirit. Injuries dotted his body from pursuit of her. A cut here. A scratch there. He was going to have a large bump on his brow from that rock and his finger was so painful that it was numbing. But she'd fought for her freedom. This young woman had risked his wrath twice now for what she wanted and he couldn't help but respect her courage. Many men wouldn't do that. She had.

There was a delicious satisfaction in seeing her hands tremble as she cleaned each cut and splintered the broken finger. He kept a tight reign on his expression through it all, gritting his teeth and letting no grimace of pain escape to be seen. Every time Kate looked up at him, her healthy complexion blanched. She'd gulp, as though her throat didn't want to let her swallow and he imagined she was wondering if he'd hit her. Her fear of him was so thick as to nearly be tangible. Good. Let her fear.

Turning his head away from her, he called out, "Fitz!" When that man had arrived, Adhemar looked him up and down, raking his gaze over him. "Were my orders misunderstood?"

"My lord?" Nervous eyes returned his stare. the young man was wary, and with good reason. Count Adhemar's temper was legendary.

"I gave express orders that this woman was to be guarded at all times when I am not with her. What part of that order was unclear?" Jerking his arm from Kate's grasp, he stood, advancing on the increasingly nervous man. "Your answer, if you please, Fitz. You know I dislike being kept waiting."

"Thomas was watching her, my lord. She was sitting near him as he cooked."

Adhemar nodded. "I see." He turned his regard to Kate. She still crouched by where he'd been sitting, her arms crossed. "And did you see this woman do anything suspicious?"

"Um...she returned to your tent and came back with some herbs, which she sprinkled into the porridge. Then she and Thomas added some meat..."

He put a hand on the man's shoulder, still nodding. "Did it not occur to you that she shouldn't be helping with the cooking, Fitz?"

Panic and dismay slipped onto those features. "Women cook, my lord. I thought she was giving Thomas help. He's not very good at that sort of thing."

"A poor argument for shirking duties, don't you think? You saw her and...what? Finish the sentence for me, Fitz. What should you have done?"

Adhemar could practically see the wheels frantically spinning in the man's head. "I should have alerted all to not touch the porridge and come to you about it?"

"Very good, Fitz. Very good." He gave him a small smile, patting Fitz' cheek for a few seconds before drawing that hand back and snapping a punch forward. Fitz fell back, clutching at his face and moaning slightly. "Remember that lesson."

"Yes, my lord," he mumbled.

"Dismissed." Adhemar returned to his seat, twitched his shirtsleeve back up and presented his arm to Kate. She was staring at Fitz as he retreated. A twinge of annoyance rolled along Adhemar's shoulders and he cleared his throat. Slowly, she looked at him, then at his arm. Her hands still trembled as she followed the surgeon's directions and Adhemar made quick mental plans.

No more leisured travel. Home.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate was hauled up behind him on the horse, her arms placed about Adhemar's waist. The two men who'd lifted her up there gave her decidedly unfriendly glares, not that she could blame them. They both still had a slight greenish tinge to their skin. Kate gulped, turning her face into Adhemar's broad back and unresisting when he placed her hands together just above his belt.

He'd said nothing to her since ordering her to tend those wounds she'd given him. She'd conceded as gracefully as she could under the circumstances, following the directions the surgeon hissed at her. Unfortunately, that one had been hit the hardest by the herb and he'd let out a string of mumbled curses that rivaled anything Wat had ever put together. He'd not be forgiving her any time soon, that was certain.

They began to ride, leaving the camp behind. The two of them would ride hard to reach his lands and the rest of his men would come at a much slower pace. Had she erred in her actions? Kate wasn't so certain now that she'd done the right thing. The idea had seemed quite good when she was anticipating being away from camp before the sickness really began, but she'd not had the chance to slip away so easily. She'd had to watch as men who'd been courteous to her grew ill and poor Thomas connected that it was she who'd made them sick. He'd assumed he'd bear the brunt of Adhemar's anger, but it was not he who'd been punished. No, Adhemar had punished the lead guard for that watch. It was a mystery to her why he'd not punished them both. Why just Fitz?

She was numb now, sorry she'd given it to the entire camp. I should have just given it to Adhemar, that voice in her mind remarked. Kate turned her head, resting her other cheek against his back. It was done and she couldn't take it back, so she needed to deal with being most firmly caught by this man. She wasn't going to escape him and that seemed depressingly final.

By nightfall, Kate was ready to stop, but they pressed on until it seemed to her that they'd been riding for days. He barely allowed time to rest and eat, the only words he spoke to her curt and cutting. Finally, he stopped, lifting her down and steadying her when her legs threatened to give way.

"My home is five miles east. There will be no mention of how I came to be injured, is that clear?" When she only stared up at him, he stepped close, pressing her back until she was sandwiched between the horse and him and had to crane her neck back to look up at him. "Answer me. I know you've a tongue in your head. You've loosed it often enough."

She blinked, licked her lips in a deliberately slow manner. "I understand."

"You will be courteous to my mother and give her the respect her station demands. No impertinence. She's been ill quite a bit lately and I'll not have you upsetting her. Am I being clear enough for you, Kate? Are you understanding what I'm saying?"

"Am I a simpleton, Count?"

He rolled his eyes, stared down at her with a tilted head. "Are you?" He looked her over with an insultingly appraising stare. "You do act it on occasion."

Anger at the remark simmered in her, but Kate could not say the words she longed to. Instead, she answered his first question. "Perfectly clear."

"Good. And one last thing. Don't appeal to any for help. There is none here for you."

And then they were on their way once more and Kate tried to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Twelve

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: I keep getting asked if this is the end at every chapter, so let me assure all readers that I won't leave you wondering if it's the end of the story. There are still several chapters to go. When this is completed, it'll be listed as completed in the summary, so please, _everyone_, have patience! Fanfic writing is my hobby, not my career. :) Thank you to those who've reviewed.

~~~~~~~~~

If an aching head could be an indication that one was most definitely alive, then Christiana was alive. She remained still, her eyes closed, attempting to recall what had happened. In slow degrees, the memories surfaced. There had been a storm, black rain clouds hurrying to cover the sky. Thunder had boomed, lighting playing about the clouds in a display that would have been beautiful if not for the danger of it. Rain had come down hard and furious, drenching them in seconds and raising the gentle creek beside the road into rampaging flood waters. Lightning had struck a tree, sending it crashing across the road. The horses had bolted and she'd been thrown from the wagon.

Christiana wondered if she really was alive. Her body ached, arcs of pain every time she attempted to move. What had happened to Roland and Germaine? She couldn't remember and that frightened her more than anything. The thought that she could be lying deeply injured in the middle of the road next to two dead men scared her. If it were so, there was no hope. Kate would not be rescued and Christiana would not be able to tell Roland that she still loved him.

With a hitching breath, she slipped once more into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Germaine knelt and, with a gentle touch, laid Christiana's head in his lap, stroking her temples softly. Out of the three travelers, he was the only one uninjured. Roland was pinned under the wagon, one leg broken and twisted. Germaine had tried in vain to move the wagon, but his strength was, regrettably, not enough to budge it. The man had remained awake for a long while, gritting his teeth and calling out for updates on Christiana's condition until the pain became too much for him.

For moment, Germaine had been afraid the man had died. However, a glance showed Roland's chest still moving with breath. So, he'd turned to Christiana. Her only bad injury was a nasty cut on her brow. He'd done what he could for her and tried to make her comfortable. She'd woken briefly an hour earlier and he thanked God for that sign that she was living. He'd seen many people with bumps or cuts on the brow just slip away into death's arms without ever waking once. She'd woken, and to him, that meant there was hope.

Germaine had to have hope. Without it, he had nothing left. The horses were gone, even the one that pulled the wagon, run away in movements that were seamlessly choreographed, as though they lived in a play and it was simply time for the horses to go. He sighed, turning his tension filled face up towards to warm rays of the sun that broke through the clouds. There too is hope, he thought. The bright light after the storm.

He could not get the last moments out of his mind. He kept replaying them over and over. Roland had jumped down from his mount, reaching for Christiana, intending to help her from the wagon as it began sinking in the mud. Just as he caught her hand, the horses bolted, the wagon jerking, Christiana thrown to the ground and Roland unable to move as the heavy weight came down upon him. Germaine had also been thrown, his own mount coming close to trampling him before following the others in panicked flight.

Though he returned to the scene over and over, he couldn't find one thing he would have had a chance to do differently. Sometimes fate was cruel. For once in his life, Germaine didn't know what to do. There was no lord to tell him what to do, no one to give direction. Should he stay with the two or should he attempt to find help? Leaving didn't seem like the proper choice, but what could he do for them by staying that he'd not already done?

He cradled Christiana to him and began to pray silently for help.

~~~~~~~~~~

The manor was exactly what Kate had expected. Large and surrounded by a tall wall. Cottages dotted the land both inside and outside the wall. She was unsurprised still to find her expectations of their greeting party to be accurately fulfilled. Several guards, all rushing forward to greet their lord and escort them through the gates and into the courtyard, where a few ladies, girls and more guards waited. Kate assumed the ladies were either relatives or women his mother was instructing in the ways of the noble wife.

With a longer glance at the women, she decided they were most likely there because of his mother. Noble ladies sometimes tutored young women and girls in what a man expected from his wife. They learned sewing technique, how to run a large household and various other duties. The soft life, she thought. Noble women were little like peasant women in her opinion. A peasant woman had to do all those things and perform the duties of a servant for herself. She had to clean the home, to prepare the food, mend the clothes and do all the work that needed to be done in addition to whatever trade her husband worked or she worked if a widow.

The only instruction Kate had received growing up had been from her mother and her sisters and cousins and the rest of the women in the village. She'd learned everything she needed to learn and taken to the smith trade simply for the young man she'd been promised to. It hadn't been an interest of hers. Not at first. That came later, as she'd watched her future husband work, creating trinkets from metal in addition to his commissioned work. Kate had greatly anticipated the day she was to become a wife and longed to be a mother as well.

The first had come and passed and died a quick death before the second could come about. Sometimes she wondered why God had not let her have a child that looked like --

Raising a hand, she pressed her fingers across her eyes, attempting to hide the tears gathering there. It was not the time to cry; to become lost in memories, so she forced herself to pay attention.

No one gave her a second glance, giving her cause to wonder how often this arrogant man brought women to his home on the back of his horse. Probably makes a habit of it, she thought, crossing her arms and scuffing one foot along the ground. She wished she was a thousand miles away from him and his plans for her. Futile, futile hope. Her glance went to the heavens. She was beginning to think that God hated her.

Adhemar took her arm, but not roughly. His grip was gentle, guiding her from behind him so that she was put on display to those who stood there. "This is Kate," Adhemar said slowly, his hands gripping her shoulders, then tangling in her hair in a blatant, familiar sort of caress.

There was a flicker of wariness from face to face. Enlightenment dawned soon after, when Adhemar's fingertips slid along the side of her face. One by one, those present greeted her as though she was the highest of noble born ladies, something of an experience for Kate. The back of her hand was kissed, though her work-roughened hands must have told the men she was a peasant, and the women curtseyed.

Adhemar's arm settled heavily along her shoulders, his hand cupping her arm. Her glance was met with a smirk and a leering wink. "Shall we go in and meet my mother, Kate? She'll be waiting."

"My lord?" A young girl, no more than fourteen, Kate decided, took a cautious step forward.

"Yes?" He asked, turning his head to look at the girl.

"Lady Isobelle is not waiting in the Hall. She's in her bed. She's been told to rest." The girl glanced at Kate, then hurried on. "L-lady...Helene is in the Hall." She seemed almost afraid to mention this detail, stepping back by one tall guard.

Helene? Kate wondered who this 'Helene' was. She'd heard the name mentioned before, but not thought to ask. It hadn't seemed important at the time.

"Lady? Really?" There was something akin to pleasure in that second word, making it nearly a purr. "Well, Kate, let us meet Helene first."

She was pulled forward by his arm about her and when his long strides were too fast for her, he let his hold on her return to her arm. They went though the large door and into the great hall. It was like other great halls Kate had occasion to glimpse in her life, long and wide, with a fireplace taking up most of one wall. This was where the household took meals and where they relaxed in the evenings.

Waiting there was a tall blond woman. Kate studied her with a critical eye. The dress she wore was too sensational for her rather rounded figure. Only a woman as slim as the Lady Jocelyn would do it justice. Her face was long and Kate had the snickering thought that this woman's face greatly resembled the face of one of the horses that stood outside.

"My lord," the woman said in a low, throaty tone.

"Helene." Adhemar tugged on Kate's arm, moving her closer to the woman. "This is Kate."

Again, he made loving looking touches along her face and shoulders. As understanding became clear in this woman's eyes, Kate also realized what this display was about. Helene was his current mistress and Kate was to replace her. The insensitivity of his actions was astounding. To do this publicly was cruel and Kate felt a bit sorry for the poor woman. She couldn't imagine how it must feel to be cast aside like that, without an apparent second thought. 

Helene quickly tried to cover her surprise and her anger, her expression settling into one of gentle displeasure rather than fury. "Where shall she be posted, my lord? The kitchens?" A disdainful gaze swept over Kate, noting the cut of her garments.

Adhemar, now alongside Kate, smiled thinly. "No posting, Helene. Kate is not here to work. See that a bath is prepared for her." A muscle in his jaw twitched, the body against Kate's side taut. He looked calm, but was not. Surprising.

"But --" One of Helene's jewelry ladened hands raised as though to stop him from speaking.

"A bath. Make certain she has one and a change of clothes as well." Adhemar stepped away from Kate's side, turning his head to look at her. "Make it something...provocative, hmm?"

Kate crossed her arms over her breast once more. It didn't deter his devouring stare, merely diverting his attention to the swell of her hips. How could he treat this Helene like that? Would he one day treat _her_ as cruelly?

"Then, put her in the chamber across from mine. See that her every material wish is granted." The tip of his tongue slipped out, wetting his lips.

Salivating in anticipation, Kate thought. Disgusting. She was a lamb and he a wolf stalking her.

"But my lord!" Helene gasped again, finally retrieving Adhemar's attention from Kate, preening slightly as his perusal turned from Kate to her.

"You object to something, Helene?" His tone was mild, deceiving, Kate realized. He'd noticed the look Helene had favored upon her and correctly interpreted it as jealousy. He was going to milk that jealousy all he could. It _amused_ him.

"That's the best of the extra chambers."

"Your point?"

"Well, she's obviously only a peasant. She should be with the other peasants."

He crossed his arms, forefinger and thumb stroking his chin. "Tell me, are you lady of this household?"

"No." A dull flush colored the woman's cheeks.

"No. Then, does your opinion matter in the slightest?" His brows raised and when she didn't reply, he continued. "It doesn't. I am lord and master here and if I say Kate will have that room, then she shall have it without question or argument from any. Is that understood?" He turned his back to Helene, returning to cup Kate's face in his palms.

"Yes, my lord," Helene answered. If Kate had thought Adhemar would bear any of the woman's hatred, she was mistaken, for the look of contempt was tossed only at Kate. The fury glimpsed moments before was rising within the woman, a mottling of her cheeks and a tight clenching of her hands.

"I'm to have my own room? And here I assumed you planned to keep me naked in your chamber, chained to the bed." Kate spoke softly, but still the words carried, sharp intakes of breath in their wake from those who were waiting for their orders.

His grin was a lazy one, thumbs sweeping her cheeks. "Don't tempt me."

"God forbid."

She was released, nudged towards the woman who stood seething with anger. "Go with Helene. Have a bath, change clothes. Relax."

The last thing Kate wanted to do was relax and with Helene, she knew she'd never be able to put her guard down once. With steps that were falsely confident, Kate followed Helene up the stairs. If it came to a physical fight, she at least knew how to fight dirty. That information was courtesy of Wat, brawling expert of their group. He'd been delighted to tell her all the ways to bring bodily harm to another person. He'd be delighted were he to know Kate was likely going to have to put his teachings to good use. In the near future, too, if Helene's glare was anything to go by.

Beautiful, Kate thought. Just beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~

Germaine had never thought that seeing any of Count Adhemar's relatives would put him in a rapturous mood. However, the sight of Lady Elizabeth crouching over him was enough to bring tears of joy. The youngest of all the siblings, she had a less than charitable view of her brother for the simple fact that he'd wed her to a man she despised. The last words she'd spoken to Alain Adhemar had been very clearly, 'You unbelievable bastard,' to which her future husband had smacked her upside the head quite soundly.

"And where, little toad, is my darling brother?"

Germaine struggled to sit, Lady Elizabeth's hand pressing him back to the ground.

"Rest. The physician hasn't seen you yet."

"My lord is..." He faltered over the best words to use. "Hunting me, my lady."

Her expression changed, some of the suspicion melting away. "Hunting? Whatever did _you_ do that would anger him with you so very much?"

Germaine gave the barest bones of the story, somehow not surprised when the woman smiled.

"Well, wouldn't it be perfectly suitable for his own family to hide his quarry?" The smile upon her face became devious. "Very suitable."

Yes, he'd never though he'd be happy at all at this point, to see one of Adhemar's relatives.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Thirteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees. 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Taking license with history on one Chaucer related detail. I sincerely hope he isn't spinning in his grave. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Lady Elizabeth was happy to be home again and even happier her husband was not there. She'd spent a lovely three months visiting her sister Fleur and the new baby and had been dreading returning to Vachel. Vachel took every chance to remind her that she'd not been a dutiful wife and born him an heir yet. Privately, she hoped there never was an heir and that he'd get himself killed fighting for her brother in that army Alain led. With her luck though, Alain would wed her to another loathsome specimen of manhood for the sole purpose of expanding the family influence and coffers.

Brother dear, she thought. It served him right to be snubbed by a woman so soon after the Lady Jocelyn affair, by a peasant woman at that. She imagined the fact was shredding his gut right now. The thought made her happy in a strange way. He'd be wondering how the woman could resist him, big strong powerful man he was.

She snorted, crossing her arms and watching the surgeon set the man Roland's leg. Alain Adhemar had to be one of the most infuriating, selfish men Elizabeth had ever known and her family was full of selfish, infuriating men. Every one of her brothers had those qualities, but Alain was just a bit more insufferable than the rest, being the oldest and all.

You will marry Vachel, he'd told her. Why? Because I told you to. Yes, Alain had arranged the match and she hated him for it; hated him nearly as much as she hated Vachel. Why he had to choose Vachel out of all the men that had asked about her, she didn't know. Was it because Vachel was a staunch supporter of his? Likely. Alain always did like to have men around him who agreed with him without question. It was a fault of his and he'd be paying for it some day. She foresaw Alain coming across a situation where his supporters couldn't help him and he had to reach out to the least likely person for aid.

With a touch of malice, she hoped that person was her and that she could deny him aid with relish.

Still, she couldn't find it within her heart to hate him completely. He was her brother after all. He'd hugged her when she'd fallen as a child and kissed her forehead and said all sorts of comforting things. Elizabeth winced at the crack of Roland's bones sliding into place. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the setting of bones.

Germaine's tale had been fairly bare and she hoped the woman Christiana would wake soon. She had a feeling the maid would be able to flesh out the tale better and give her details. Elizabeth wanted details. She wanted to hear how this peasant woman Kate had taken Alain on a wild chase. It was wonderful to hear of a spirited woman who didn't want him, unlike the recent and most wretched, Helene.

There was a horrible creature if ever there was one. Of course, Fleur liked her. Fleur, she thought, didn't have the sense God gave an ant. She trusted and liked just about anyone who had a kind word to say to her and Helene was most flattering to those she thought would bring her closer to the goal of winning Alain Adhemar for her own. It seemed to escape Helen's notice that Alain couldn't marry a merchant's daughter, not unless the merchant was fairly wealthy, which Helen's father most certainly was not. Alain had to marry a noble woman, if he married at all.

Her lips turned up a bit with a cynical smile. He could always claim one of his illegitimate children as his heir and have that be perfectly legal if he went through the proper channels. Not that his women had given birth to anything but girls. Elizabeth pursed her lips.

Be nice and be fair. He only has three girls and they're being well taken care of. In all fairness, he had seen to that. He seemed to have little use for their mothers anymore, but the children were looked after. Alain was not shirking his responsibilities there. All three girls were being well fed and dressed and cared for as though they were legitimate. Alain had hired a nurse specifically for that task.

Roland groaned, the surgeon wrapping the leg with strips of linen. The break had been bad and it would be a miracle in her opinion if the man was able to walk without a limp once the bones healed. Elizabeth glanced at Germaine. He'd been silent since arriving at the small manor house, following her as though he'd now become her personal servant.

As much as she hated to admit it, she liked Germaine and always had. It was only his unquestioning obedience to Alain that had caused any animosity between them. Germaine had helped Alain carry her bodily out to travel to her wedding. He'd sat with her and explained in a low voice how her brother only wanted what was best for her. While Alain had laughed and joked with Vachel, Germaine had talked with her, attempted to ease her distress at the match.

And now Germaine was here with her. He'd disobeyed a direct order and run away from Alain with the peasant woman in tow. The situation was not quite as humorous as she'd have thought. Alain wouldn't be kind were he to find Germaine, not now. In a few long months perhaps, but not now. "You're lucky Vachel isn't here, Germaine."

He looked up at her, nodding. "I know, my lady."

"Vachel would send a letter to Alain straight away. However," She stepped around the bed to him, ignoring the physician who still worked. "Vachel is not here and won't be for a long while. My dear brother sent him to Italy of all places." Elizabeth crossed her arms, considered him a moment. "But you know that, don't you? You've always known most of my brother's plans."

Germaine nodded again. He seemed uncertain and she really couldn't blame him. He probably thought that any wrong word and she'd have him sent back to Alain. Elizabeth couldn't tell him outright that she wouldn't do that, not with the physician still in the room. Perhaps later, she'd reassure him she was wholly sympathetic to his plight. She knew Alain was not an easy man to work for. "My lady, about Christiana --"

The physician cleared his throat. "He'll heal. Let him rest." The old man said nothing more and Germaine and Elizabeth watched him leave the room.

"I'll be speaking with Christiana when she wakes. I assume you'll still wish to rescue this 'Kate'?"

"Yes. I feel guilty enough for leaving her in that clearing, but to leave her in his home without any attempt at all..." He trailed off, his gaze meeting hers, begging for understanding.

She did understand. Elizabeth could understand completely. It must be nice, she thought, to be the sort of woman who has friends who care what happens to you; friends that are willing to mount a rescue party to save you. She'd never had such friends. Her friends had been her sisters and her maid Alice. None of her family would think of rescuing her from Vachel since she'd been given to him by law in accordance to Alain's position in the family, and Alice had come here with her.

This Kate must be extraordinary, she decided. "I may be able to aid all of you. I don't speak to Alain if I can help it, but mother is in need of a companion. She's been ill, you know. Christiana may be perfect for that position, but I won't know until I speak with her."

He glanced at Roland, then shrugged and looked at her. "My lady....I didn't agree with my lord's decision in wedding you to that man. It wasn't my place to speak up though. If I could have, I would have. You do understand that?"

Elizabeth gave him a hard stare and did not reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Leave."

The venomously flung word made Kate heave a long sigh, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. Did this woman not grasp that she'd leave if she could? For ten minutes, Kate had been trying to explain to her that she was a prisoner, but the woman was as dense as they came. She was developing a headache to rival all headaches and if this kept up, she'd be in bed with the covers pulled over her head within an hour, praying for relief.

"I've told you," she began, struggling to maintain a patient air, "I can't leave because your lord is holding me prisoner."

The words sounded a bit ridiculous when he wasn't physically holding on to her and no guard was hovering over her, but Kate said them once more, unsurprised when Helene sniffed and dumped half the contents of a perfume vial into the bath she'd had prepared. The cloying violet scent that wafted upward in the steam was sickening enough to make Kate's stomach rebel. She couldn't imagine getting in the water. On the upside however, Adhemar likely wouldn't enjoy her smelling so sickeningly sweet, as he'd mentioned before her 'light lavender fragrance'. There was no way he could mistake violet for lavender.

"My lord," Helene replied, "Has no need to keep unwilling women in his household. Don't deny that you want him. What woman wouldn't?"

Kate seriously considered smacking the woman upside the head just on the off chance it would smack some sense into her, but she refrained, her palms itching to slap. She couldn't deny wanting Count Adhemar. She _could_ deny she was willing. She was only half-willing really, if truth be told. But that was still half-unwilling, so it wasn't a lie. "This one. This woman doesn't want him and would give anything to be free of him."

Helene's eyes narrowed. "You lie. I see it in your eyes. You want him."

Suddenly, Kate had had enough. She wanted a bath and a change of clothes, even if the change of clothes was something Adhemar found, heaven forbid, _provocative_. "Fine. Have it your way. I want him. I need him. Now can I have a bathe in peace?"

The woman flinched as though struck. "I will make this difficult for you. You won't get rid of me easily. I know what my lord likes. I can give him what he needs and you won't last long." Still, the woman didn't leave, going to the bed and lifting the clothes she'd had brought. The shift was so sheer as to be almost non-existent and the surcoat and dress were obviously going to be too big on her. Kate didn't care at this point. They were clothes and they were cleaner than what she was wearing.

Quickly, she undressed and stepped into the water. "So, what would you have done if he'd come back with a wife?"

Helene turned her head, her lips turned up in a tiny sly grin. "Pushed her down the stairs. Poisoned her. Been rid of her. She wouldn't have lasted long either."

Kate shook her head. How could that man stand such attention? Surely he'd noticed how unbalanced this woman was. "And why would those be acceptable actions?"

Helene came to her, crouched down so they were eye to eye. "Haven't you ever loved a man so much that you'd be willing to do anything for him? I pity you if you haven't. I adore Alain more than anything." With that, she left.

Kate didn't know if she was disappointed or not that the woman failed to try to drown her in the water.

~~~~~~~~~~

The wedding of Sir Will and Lady Jocelyn nearly a month later was simpler than Jocelyn truly would have liked, just vows spoken together before the priest. There was no dower given, as Will couldn't afford such at present with little in the way of materialistic wealth. That didn't bother Jocelyn. What bothered her was her dowry, the money and land given to Will. It was diminished somewhat from it's original sum and, by the smug look on her stepmother's face, Jocelyn knew exactly what had happened.

That opportunistic, scheming witch had convinced Jocelyn's father that Will was young and strong and so in favor with Prince Edward, that he'd likely have too much wealth to even count before long. Why, he'd done so well at tournament! Jocelyn had bitten her lip to keep from making caustic retort about other people, namely Blanche, who did well at tournament. She doubted Blanche would appreciate the reference to her activities. While Jocelyn hated to see her father made a fool of by that woman, she wasn't about to be the one to inform him he was being cuckolded.

This turn annoyed her to no end. She'd calculated exactly how much of her dowry they were going to use for a decent house, clothes and the various things one needed to set up housekeeping. Now, the money had to go towards basic supplies such as food and clothing. She could do without new clothes, but Will needed a bit more than he had in his possession. It wasn't enough to have the title. He had to occasionally look the part and, with Roland gone, they'd have to pay for both cloth and labor to have clothes made instead of just cloth. They were going to have to find some way to turn the tide of their fortunes quickly, or the dowry would be all gone and nothing to show for it.

Jocelyn had hoped to have a house of her own. It was an unbelievable pain to have to deal with Blanche on every little matter. Going to tournament had been a blessing, a chance to get away from the sickening sweet endearments the woman cooed at her father. Jocelyn glanced at Will.

The dowry hadn't bothered him at all. He'd seemed quite overwhelmed by the sum of it. She wondered how he would have reacted if Blanche hadn't managed to get the dowry cut in half. Would he have fainted from the shock?

He glanced at her, caught her gaze and grinned. She returned the grin, twining her fingers in with his. They shouldn't be holding hands like this in mass, but who was going to notice as long as it was discreet? For that matter, who was going to fault them? Newlyweds could get away with much that most people couldn't.

The mass went by torturously slow and Jocelyn had to nudge Will several times in an effort to make him stop fidgeting. He kept looking around when they were supposed to be praying, his gaze traveling the crowd. Finally, they were free, the throng of people spilling from the church out into the street.

"Mass has never been so long," he muttered.

"Or so boring," Jocelyn finished for him. He wasn't fond of the mass they went to, claiming in private that it was twice as long as the masses he'd attended as a peasant. She placed a fond hand on his chest, smoothing his tunic and smiling up at him. "You hide it remarkably well, no looking about for you, only solid concentration on the Word."

He gave her a good natured roll of his eyes. "How can you stand it? Mass seven days a week? Once is quite enough, thank you. Some of us have work to do every day and can't spend hours each morning in church."

Slipping her fingers up, she covered his lips. Mischief twinkled in the depths of his eyes. "Oh shush!"

He snatched her fingers away, after giving them a brief kiss. "I will not shush, Jocelyn. I --"

"Sir Thatcher!" A voice called from behind them. "Sir Thatcher!"

They turned to see a man making his way through the crowd towards them. His was slim, with sandy blond hair framing his face and a beard outlining the curve of his jaw. It took several seconds for Jocelyn to place him as one of the knights who'd been courteous and even friendly to Will during the tournaments. He nodded upon reaching them, giving a tiny bow.

"We need to talk, Sir Will. I believe we have the ability to help each other." With that cryptic remark, he waved one arm, indicating the tavern down the street. "Shall we adjourn for refreshments?"

Curious. Jocelyn shrugged. What else did they have to do that day? "I see no reason not to, I suppose," she told Will.

They went into the tavern and found a quiet corner. At this time of day, the room was still fairly quiet. The smell of food was on the air and the sound of instruments somewhere playing. The man didn't waste time with trivialities. He sank right in to the meat of the discussion without preamble.

"Upon receiving your letter, I realized I have quite a proposition to tender towards you. I will help you retrieve your 'Kate', but only if you help me to keep Adhemar alive."

Jocelyn and Will exchanged a glance and leaned closer to the man. It was a long while later before they parted company.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hour was lamentably late for one who was supposed to be up at the birdsong of dawn ready to travel for King and country, but what was Geoff doing? He was writing instead of sleeping. The muse had descended upon him in the most glorious of ideas just as his head had hit the pillow beside lovely Philippa's. She'd not asked where he was going, only smiled and told him not to stay awake too late or he'd be terribly grouchy in the morning.

He'd finished several pages of prose, a bit of it quite satisfactory to his critical half, and was taking a moment to re-gather his thoughts. This idea he'd had was brilliant! How many writers had an idea just half as brilliant as this one? Not many, in his opinion, though he was, of course, biased. The pages were simply the idea, the outline of the work and a way for him to remember the idea when he had considerably more time to spend with it.

He'd write a series of tales and put them together within the framework of another tale. He'd draw characters, obviously, from people he'd met in the course of his life. It was going to be exquisite when completed, a masterpiece of reflection upon the puzzle that was humanity.

"I'm a genius," he said to the empty room at large, tossing his quill aside. "I am true literary genius. There is none that compares to me...." He grinned, stretching his arms above his head and wincing at the pull of his back muscles. He'd spent too much time hunched over the table writing.

A knock at the door made him pause. He was the only one awake, so therefore was the only one to answer whoever was there. Geoff stood and strolled into the hallway, opening the door. Standing there was quite a familiar face. "Wat." He glanced behind the man. Wat was, it appeared, alone.

"Message from Lady Jocelyn to Lady Philippa. It's rather urgent, Geoff."

Geoff studied him for a second, then swept an arm towards the inside of the residence. "Please come in. I'll wake Philippa if it's so urgent."

Lady Jocelyn writing to Philippa? How deliciously intriguing! Geoff was looking forward to discovering the reason behind the correspondence and hurriedly woke his wife. She was gorgeous upon waking, her hair tousled about her bare shoulders in waves and her cheeks slightly flushed. She nodded at his mention of a visitor with a letter for her and slipped on her robes. Together, they descended to where Wat waited.

Philippa gave him a smile. "Wat, yes? You have a letter for me?"

Wat nodded. "My lady says she needs a reply tonight." He handed her the scrolled parchment.

Philippa took it and unrolled it. Geoff unashamedly read over her shoulder, his eyes widening as he did so. Will had been recruited into an army created solely to keep Count Adhemar's head from being separated from his body. Jocelyn's letter was brief on the details, but the general gist seemed to be that if Will would scratch Kit Guin's back, Kit would in turn scratch Will's and lend his forces towards rescuing Kate from the very man they were trying to prevent from being killed. Jocelyn though, had nowhere to go in the meantime, and didn't want to return to her father's house. With Will off at battle, she needed a friendly place to lay her head.

She hated to impose, but hoped that Geoffrey and Philippa would allow her to visit with them for several weeks, or until she could secure a place of residence suitable to her needs. She'd be happy to help with household expenses....

Philippa re-rolled the scroll and Geoff snatched it from her to finish reading. His wife had always been an annoyingly quick reader. "Tell Lady Jocelyn that we'll be pleased to have her with us, though I have duties during the day and she'll have to amuse herself. She may arrive as soon as is convenient for her. I'll have chambers readied."

With barely a word in Geoff's direction, Wat left. Geoff wondered if Wat was still angry with him. For that matter, was Lady Jocelyn? Not that it mattered. He was likely going to be gone before she arrived.

Suddenly, Geoff was nearly too tired to stay awake. Passing Philippa, who'd come awake in the instant of realizing she was having a houseguest and was calling out for the staff to attend her, Geoff went to bed and slept dreamless sleep until dawn.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Fourteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

After her bath, Kate dressed and laid on the huge bed. It was every bit as soft as it looked and she wondered just what Adhemar had in mind. He wasn't putting her in this room without a reason. That man never did anything without some sort of self serving motive. Helene had called this the best extra room in the manor and Kate could see why. It was splendid. Thick curtains on the bed, furs piled on the trunk at the foot of that bed and the rushes on the floor were obviously new. There was no deep accumulation of dust on surfaces and a tray with wine and a goblet was on the table by the fireplace. She'd be fine in here as long as that heavy bar resting beside the door didn't disappear.

Getting up, she strolled to the door and opened it, peering into the hallway, ready to slam the panel at the first sign of anyone coming towards her. People passed by, but no one paid her any attention. It was refreshing after Adhemar's constant attention. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame. It appeared she was to have some freedom, so what was the logical thing to do now?

Test her boundaries. She needed to know just how much freedom she had in this house.

Kate set out exploring the manor. It was of newer construction, with no sense of age in the look of the stone and wood, and Kate took her time looking about. No one told her she was not to be wandering and still no one spoke to her. Gradually, some of the tension along her shoulders eased and she let herself out into the courtyard, following the wall of the manor around to the back.

There, was a large garden. The fish pond was to the left of the garden and down the hill a bit. She also spied several fruit trees and berry bushes. The countryside, from the spot she stood, was lovely and Kate could almost imagine that the walls about the manor and immediate grounds were gone.

Too bad this scenery couldn't be shared with her friends. Kate wondered, for about the hundredth time in the past couple days, what her friends were up to. She wondered if Geoff had gone safely on his way to whatever his plans had been and were Lady Jocelyn and Will still head over heels for each other? For that matter, were Roland and Christiana? Was Wat still with them, or had he set out to fulfill his dream of owning a tavern?

The sound of children laughing brought her from her thoughts and she turned to see a girl of possibly eight years of age, running after two younger girls. The youngest looked about four to Kate and the middle girl was somewhere between the two. Behind them came an older woman, calling out for them to wait for her.

Kate smiled as they ignored the plea, rushing past her, their long dark curls all in disarray. She wondered whose children they were. All three girls were pretty.

The woman stopped running and gasped for breath. "Little devils. Always getting into mischief and he won't let me discipline them properly." She tucked her hair back under her cap and gave Kate a smile. "Good day." Though her words had been cross, she was obviously not upset with her charges, shaking her head as the gleeful squeals of children enjoying themselves reached them. With a chuckle, she continued on.

Kate watched them for a few more moments, then returned to the front courtyard.

* * *

Adhemar tread slowly towards his mother's room. That lady was not well he'd been told. He'd also been told that her companion had not given a reason before leaving, the woman simply setting out with what she could carry, not bothering to pack the rest of her things. Privately, he suspected Helene had something to do with that departure.

Helene wasn't the easiest woman to get along with and he realized she was universally disliked among the servants, but he was somewhat fond of her in a way. Not fond enough to want to keep her any longer, but fond enough to still have kind thoughts about their times together. She'd given him pleasure when he'd wanted it and gotten out of his way when he was through with her. He should send her back to her father with some sort of compensation for her lost virtue, or at least attempt to find a husband for her. Really, it _was_ the decent thing to do.

She'd grown airs, decided she had rights that she simply didn't possess. Her order to be called 'lady' was an example of that. Helene was not a lady in any sense and never would be. Kate, lower in class distinction than Helene by a long jump, was much more a lady than she. Helene wanted to be more than she was.

Good God, he thought. It's like a plague. They all want to be what they can't.

Perhaps one time he might have considered actually marrying Helene if her father had been a bit more successful as a merchant, but the man was barely keeping his business afloat and wealth kept this family going. Now though, he couldn't imagine Helene ever being more than what she was: an opportunistic little tart who only wanted money and influence. No one would have accepted her here as lady of the manor.

Adhemar paused before the portrait of his father, studying it without really seeing it, an excuse to delay his visit with his mother. He never should have given Helene an allowance to spend as she pleased. Was that his mistake? Or was his mistake in omission? He'd never actually _told_ her he had no intention of marrying her. In fact, it was rather a foregone conclusion that he couldn't marry her. He hadn't said it though. Had that omission caused a false hope to build in her breast? Possibly. Helene had many false hopes in their time together, including false pregnancies.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck, massaging the skin. He couldn't just turn Helene away. He had to make some sort of arrangements for her, but first he had to decide what. He knew she was jealous of Kate, those glances had shown her feelings plain enough, but he didn't think she'd physically harm her. While Germaine had been convinced Helene was a murderer, Adhemar couldn't quite see Helene desirous of getting her hands dirty. She'd always been much too squeamish. Besides, Kate could take care of herself. If there was any lingering animosity between them, he'd no doubt that Kate would be the victor.

Glancing down the hallway, he saw his mother's door was open. She was waiting.

He entered the room and went directly to her side, waiting while she anchored her needle in the fabric she was embroidering. As he always was after being gone, he was struck by how frail she appeared. She was thinner every time he came home and her health seemed to decline faster and faster. The physician could find no cause and Adhemar began to realize he could lose his mother very soon.

The thought frightened him.

She'd been a constant in his life, not content to sit back and let others rear her children. He and his siblings had the benefit of their mother right there by their sides for years, until they were each old enough to be sent to other homes to learn. She had loved them all and made herself available for each child if they needed her. He'd never thought of life without her there before. Each time he'd left, he'd known she'd keep the house the way he wanted it. She'd make his homecomings glorious celebrations and would be pleased by his victories.

"I've missed you, my son." She raised her arms up, hands motioning him towards her. Gladly, he embraced her, trying not to react when he felt her shoulder blades like sharp stones beneath her dress.

"And I have missed you." Releasing her, he dragged a chair beside her and sat, taking a look at the embroidery she had on the free standing hoop. She was working on a shift he saw, the needle she used so fine that if he'd had to pick it up, he didn't think he could do so. The design was white on white, flowers and vines on what he thought could be the bodice. He didn't touch it. He didn't want to chance staining the fabric. "A new shift? Don't I pay a seamstress to make these for you?"

Isobelle nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Yes, but she doesn't add the extra touches and I see no reason to pay her to do it, when I can easily pretty my clothes up myself."

It was an old argument between them, an easy way to fall back into their relationship. "I don't mind paying her extra."

"But I do." She released his hand and again took up her needle. "Now, I've been hearing some interesting stories in the past couple hours." Her glance lingered on his face a moment, on the cut on his brow and the bruises that had blossomed, but she made no comment, turning her attention fully to the cloth and taking a few slow stitches.

"Oh?" He waited and was rewarded when she gave a low chuckle.

"You've brought home a woman."

"Yes."

"Yes?" A flower was slowly being formed in stitches and knots. Briefly, her teeth caught at her lower lip. "Really, Alain, is that all you have to say about her? I've heard she's pretty, but certainly not, by description, the Lady Jocelyn."

"No, she's not Lady Jocelyn. I was unsuccessful in those negotiations, which you're undoubtedly aware of already. Royal spies have nothing on you mother. Your spy network knows of news about me before I scarce know it myself."

"My spy network? You jest." Again, she anchored the needle and turned in her chair to face him. "Are you happy Alain?"

"Happiness is irrelevant." He gave her attire a pointed stare and changed the topic. "I thought you were abed and not well enough to greet me."

"I had a miraculous recovery moments ago. I suddenly felt well enough to get dressed." She smiled. "When do I meet this woman you've carried home?"

"Whenever you choose."

* * *

Frustration was eating at Helene. Alain had been home for hours and he'd not come to see her alone at all. That little detail was beyond worrisome. He'd brought back some peasant and given her the best room and chastised Helene for the assumption that the woman was to work in the kitchens. Why, to look at the woman, that was where she belonged. But no, he treated this Kate as though she was some delicate princess, ordering a bath for her and clothes.

Puzzling. Who was this woman anyway? She'd tried to convince Helene that she was a prisoner, which was, of course, absurd. Prisoners were sent below to be chained, not given the best room in the manor. She'd gone on and on about how she didn't want to be there. Most absurd. The gates to the wall were open and Kate could walk right out if she chose. There was no guard on her that Helene could see. No man had been posted outside the door of the chamber and Alain had left Kate alone.

That was not the behavior of a man keeping a woman prisoner. It wasn't even behavior of a man who wanted a woman desperately. Helene remembered well how Alain acted with a woman he wanted. Constant attention. Little touches that could be considered innocent when witnessed by a third party. Stolen kisses. He did not just leave the woman alone. Therefore, it had to be Kate who wanted him and who'd convinced him to bring her here.

So who was Kate really?

Helene ran a hand over the sumptuous fabric she'd chosen for her newest dress. Pale blue was beautiful with her coloring. Not every woman could wear the color without looking like she was made of ice. Helene could wear it though and she planned to bring Alain back to her, to keep this Kate from taking him from her. She'd be a good wife for him, she knew it. She knew his likes, his dislikes...his tastes. Helene's fist grasped a handful of fabric. Did he think she wasn't up to the challenge? She _was_. She, Helene, was the perfect woman for Count Alain Adhemar.

She just had to make him see it. Then, she had to dispose of Kate.

* * *

Kit Guin, Will found, was a naturally loquacious individual. Once the man began talking in earnest, he did not shut up. So, the beginning of their journey gave Wil and Wat both ample details about Kit and his predicament.

"My brother, you see, is an ambitious individual, about as ambitious as a person can get. He's got it in his head that he can take control of the Free Companies and Count Adhemar's lands and monies in one swoop. Naturally, he means to kill the man. Now, I'm not the sort of man to go against his brother normally, but this smacks of stupidity. I mean, to storm the manor and kill all inside is not a smart thing to attempt." Kit paused for breath, but continued before Will could manage a comment. "We'll meet up with my men and go directly towards the south road. There, we'll stop my brother. Once he's dead, we'll rescue your friend and then...." He cast a glance towards Will, one filled with uncertainty.

Rather than wait for Kit to get around to what he was wanting to ask, Will jumped to speak. "There's more, isn't there? Spit it out, Kit. What else is on your mind?" Will took a long drink from his cup, exchanging a glance with Wat. Wat remained silent, his opinion of the agreement Will had made with Kit plain on his face.

Wat didn't want to do anything that might help Adhemar. He only agreed to come with Will for Kate's sake. He'd argued with Will for long hours, then turned to Jocelyn in plea for help only to find she approved of the plan. Only for Kate though. If Adhemar died after they rescued Kate, it would not cause Jocelyn or Wat to lose sleep.

"A final favor, if you please, before we part company."

"Which is?"

"Help me tell Bess that she's free of him. Help me win her as you won Lady Jocelyn."

Will had no words. All he could do was stammer, "Who's Bess?"

"My brother's wife." Kit tossed a bit of wood onto the fire they'd made, watched the flames for a moment. "It's a long story, Will. My dear brother informed me one day that he'd decided I should marry. I accepted this and he proposed a certain young woman. She was lovely and I was happy. But then, he decided he wanted her instead. He negotiated for himself instead of me and I didn't know until he came home with her as his bride. The ceremony was done and she was his."

It was a story Will had heard before and would likely hear many more times in his lifetime. Lost love. Each time he heard such a tale, he became happier than ever that he and Jocelyn had found each other and been allowed to marry. Few were so lucky as they. "I'm sorry, Kit."

"So am I. I tried to put that from my mind and see her as a sister." He shook his head. "I can't. Bess is my love, my only love, and he delights in abusing her. He beats her, uses his fists and calls her less than a woman when she is...."

"Venus," Will finished for him.

Wat gave a delicate snort.

Kit nodded. "Yes. Venus. You know how I feel, Will. Help me."

Will set his cup aside and laced his fingers together, resting his forearms on his knees. "Does she return your feelings?"

Kit gave a bitter laugh. "She could not say if she did for fear of retribution from my brother. I do not press her, for I do not wish for her to be injured because of me." He sighed. "I'll even give some incentive for you. With his death, I will have several extra residences I care not to own. I'm willing to give you and your wife one. No money changing hands and no debt. Help me with Bess and what I can do for you, I will."

"I'm no soldier, Kit. Not really."

"Nonsense. All men are soldiers to protect those they love. It's the way of it."

Will took the chance to look at Wat. Wat's face held resignation. "This war you're starting is not to save Adhemar. It's to save a woman. Your brother's wife. You fight for a woman, Kit." Princess Joan's words came back to him. _You could wage war over this Kate and no one would bat an eye._

The man's expression was grim. "And I'll not apologize for it."

"Does your brother have a name?" Wat asked.

Kit stared at him a long moment. "Aye," he responded darkly, speaking directly to Wat for the first time since the journey had begun. "Devil spawn."

* * *

The boundaries Kate had been given were the walls. Unescorted, she could walk anywhere along the grounds that she wished, as long as she was within the walls. She found that at least one of the guards at each point of entrance knew who she was. Adhemar had made certain of it. If she wished to go outside the walls, she was informed, then she'd have to take it up with the lord. Still, it was more freedom than she'd expected and the thought kept crossing her mind that Adhemar was up to something. He had to be. There was no other explanation.

When evening came, Kate ventured back inside. The evening meal was set up and she was forced to sit beside Adhemar during it. She'd not yet met his mother and Helene didn't join them. The atmosphere was festive, the conversation relaxed and the only words Adhemar spoke to her were inquiries as to what she wanted on her plate.

He was nice and charming and Kate decided she must have fallen asleep somewhere and dreamed. It was a pleasant dream and when he left her at her door with only a simple, "Good night," she knew that's what it had to be. He didn't touch her, didn't attempt to kiss her and Kate did not wake once from bangings on the door demanding entry.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Fifteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

The Lady Isobelle was not what Kate expected. She should be getting used to that by now. Little anymore was what she expected. Her lips twisted a little with humor. I should be expecting it by now.

The lady was small and thin and Kate did not see any of her son in those delicate features. Perhaps his looks and his height came from his father. Lady Isobelle was kind and courteous, the sort that reminded Kate greatly of Geoffrey Chaucer.

"How was your journey, Kate? Was it difficult?"

She watched the lady sewing, her own hands clasped in her lap. What should she reply? It was difficult, yes, in that she'd been captured. Would it help her to be completely honest with Lady Isobelle? If the woman didn't know the kind of man her son was by now, nothing Kate said would change that. "It was difficult, yes."

Lady Isobelle anchored her needle in her embroidery and sat back in her chair with a wracking cough, waving Kate back into her own chair when Kate rose to pat her back. "No, no. This cough has been with me awhile. Nothing to worry over. Now," she gave Kate her full attention. "Tell me how it was difficult. I know traveling with men is always a trial. They never take into account that most women do not like traveling at a break neck speed for days on end. Surely Alain did not do so?"

Kate bit her lower lip, glancing down at her hands. "At the end, he did, but I...." She sighed. "I may have pricked his temper a bit." An understatement to be sure.

A measuring stare ran over her, the lady's lips pursing a moment before she smiled. "You don't like my son very much do you?"

It was a candid query and one she hadn't anticipated. It was hard to think of an answer that wouldn't offend Adhemar's mother. "My lady," Kate began, attempting to be apologetic.

The woman shook her head. "It's fine, Kate. I know Alain isn't perfect. None of my children are. You may be honest with me. I've little honesty lately in my days. The surgeon lies to me about my health, telling me I'll be well any day. I know that I won't be. My ladies lie about having done their lessons, concerned about being punished. My servants lie about their altercations with Helene and my children lie to me about the state of their affairs. So please. Let there be honesty between you and I and we shall get along well together."

Slowly, Kate gave a nod. Honesty was something she could understand. Honest was something she could be. "Very well. No, I don't like him very much. He's arrogant and smug and infuriating."

"He's a man. They all are such things on occasion." The spark of good humor lit her eyes.

"Perhaps, but I've yet to see a time when he isn't all three."

Lady Isobelle sat forward, reaching for her needle. "Wait. You'll see. I promise."

Her next question was about Kate's work and Kate hastened to tell her everything.

* * *

The girl Christiana was bruised, but not, in the opinion of the physician, seriously injured. The cut on her brow, though nasty to look at -- red and raw -- was not deep. She needed no stitches. He proclaimed her deep sleep to be from exhaustion of the journey.

Who am I to contradict, Lady Elizabeth thought, dragging the lone chair in the tiny chamber over to the side of the bed. I am but a woman. In his eyes that makes me dirt beneath his feet. Just like Vachel's opinion of me. She sat, crossing her arms and waiting for the just stirring woman to wake fully.

Her brother had certainly erred in taking the maid, Kate. Elizabeth relished that error. It made her brother human again; made him not so much of the uncaring, unfeeling beast she'd begun to think him as. Alain was only a man, with a man's weakness for a woman. It was good to see him that way again. Ever since he'd married her off to Vachel, she'd demonized him in her mind. He'd begun to take on aspects of a devil and that was not right, for he was a man. This put him back into perspective.

Elizabeth wondered how this Kate was faring. Alain didn't like his women to refuse him and it sounded like Kate was the sort of woman to yield him nothing, unless it was by her own choice. She'd almost like to be there watching. It would be entertaining to observe their clash.

She blinked, studying Christiana and turning her thoughts to that one.

Germaine called Christiana a brave woman. He'd mentioned how she'd set out after Kate all by herself, handling a wagon and ready to fight the world. He also explained that Roland and Christiana had a history together, but weren't quite ready to make up and work things out. Perhaps the two would make peace while here. Christiana looked like a nice woman. Her features were pleasant and Elizabeth hoped she _was_ nice. Having a friendly woman to talk to besides Alice would be a blessing, even if it was for a short while.

Elizabeth hated conflict. She'd seen too much discord in her life to enjoy the thrill of verbal warfare, but it seemed that was all she was destined to have. Vachel delighted in sarcasm, his words leaving wounds that no one could see, wounds that felt raw and bloody. Such was life. She'd resigned herself to making the best of her life, constantly praying that Vachel would manage to get himself killed in battle. Hopefully some day her prayer would be answered.

* * *

She was alive. Christiana prayed a silent and quick prayer of thanks that she was still living, then opened her eyes. She was on a narrow bed; the bed of a servant she surmised by the tiny size of the room. There was space for the bed, a trunk, a chair and a small table. It was similar to the room off of Jocelyn's chambers where she'd lived for years. The size, the slits for windows high on the wall. The difference though, was in the details.

This room was drab and dull. There were no pretty cloths of rich fabric like those Jocelyn had graciously shared with Christiana over the years. This room was stark and cold in ambiance as well as practical details.

I would die if I had to live here, she decided, very glad that Jocelyn adored pretty things and had always let Christiana indulge herself.

She studied the woman that sat in the chair. Long dark hair, pale, thin features and body. She could not be older than Christiana. Something in the set of the eyes was familiar, but Christiana was certain she'd never seen this woman before today. The carriage of the shoulders was proud, yet slightly hunched, as though her spirit was half broken and she was clinging to herself by a thin thread.

"My lady," Christiana ventured. This woman was not a servant. Her bearing told that plainly.

"Germaine has fretted over you, Christiana." Thin lips quirked up in a tight mirthless smile. "He's been most un-servant-like, ordering the physician when the man called your injuries mild. Not that I blame him. Cluny is infuriating and far too condescending to all but my husband. As though none but he can comprehend a diagnosis." Clasping her hands, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. "I'm Elizabeth," she said slowly and clearly. "Alain Adhemar's youngest sister."

Alarm was her first emotion, followed quickly by a sense of calm. She'd said Germaine ordered the physician. That meant Adhemar was not here as yet. Germaine would not be free were he here. Then, there was how she'd said Adhemar's name. Scornful. Christiana carefully kept her expression neutral, trying to ignore the pain on her brow. She nodded. "My lady."

"Germaine has told me of what's happened, but I'd like to hear your story. I'd like to know how you ended up setting out to save a woman from my brother. I know you're the Lady Jocelyn's maid and that this Kate was a friend of Sir Thatcher. Will you fill in the rest so that we might begin to decide how you should proceed in your plan?"

The next hours were spent deep in conversation.

* * *

Christiana made her way towards the chamber where Roland lay abed. His leg had been splinted and though Germaine had been to see him many times these past days, Christiana had held back. She and Lady Elizabeth had decided what must be done and Christiana was wary of telling Roland. He wasn't going to approve. She paused outside the door, leaning against the wall.

She loved him. That's what made this difficult. It wasn't just a simple infatuation, not on her part. She honestly loved Roland with all of her heart. Too bad their lives had taken the turn they had. She was still upset with him for his words, but with action begun towards rescuing Kate, she found her heart could see past the words and to the man himself. She herself had said things in the past that she regretted with the same fervor he regretted his words. How could she withhold forgiveness?

Should she tell him, or should she wait? Was one fight enough for a day? The news she had to give him would surely bring on a fight.

With a deep breath, she entered the room and went to sit beside him. The last look she'd had of him had been right before he'd woken, when his features were pallid and sweaty. Now, there was a spot of color livening his face. He no longer looked like a corpse stretched out in the bed. Christiana reached out her hands, gently taking one of Roland's between them. Her thumbs stroked the back of his hand and she gave him a small smile. "You're looking better."

"I feel like shite," he said bluntly.

"Well you don't look it. Your color is good."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm to work for her, she says. I can't afford to. Not with Kate out there alone."

Christiana licked her lips. She could imagine Roland getting himself up out of this bed and going after Kate with a broken leg just to prove he was stubborn enough to do it. "Lady Elizabeth is rather nice. We've had occasion to talk much these past few days and I think she's lonely. The only place she travels is to see her family and her husband rarely approves visits. She has no control over her home at all. A steward runs everything, decides everything, even her monthly allowance." She sighed. "I'm sorry for her."

"It'll be weeks before I can work, Christiana, then weeks to pay off my debt to her. By then, who knows what will have happened to Kate." His frustration showed clearly in the angry words.

"That's actually why I came today."

He looked away. "Of course. I shouldn't think you'd want my company, should I?" A bitter tone on bitter words.

She didn't answer. Perhaps after this was all over, they could begin to mend their relationship, but it couldn't be now. Not when the plan she'd outlined to him and Germaine on the road had been set into motion. Lady Elizabeth had written to both her mother and brother. The gist of the letters were that she'd engaged a new maid recently, a well-trained woman who'd left her last posting . She thought her mother would like to try her as a companion. The letters had gone out the day before. Lady Elizabeth was sure quick replies would be forthcoming. Adhemar hated his dear mother not having a companion to spend the days with.

"Well," he prodded, returning a suspiciously moist gaze to her. "Have you news of Kate, then?"

"No, not news. Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"My plan," she started. "The one Jocelyn and I decided. Lady Elizabeth had lent her full support to it --"

"God's blood, girl! She's _his_ sister!" He wrenched his hand free of hers. "You think she'll not turn on us in a second?"

"Listen!" Christiana pleaded, leaning forward. "He's hurt her. She hates him, despises him and wants him to get his comeuppance. She's improved the plan, given me a six month out, writing her proposal so that she can send for me in six months if I've not returned with Kate by then."

"That fall broke your skull."

"Oh!" She jerked back as Roland struggled to sit. "_Men_."

'_Women_," he retorted. "She's still his sister. Now listen to me on this. She's an Adhemar. Deceit is thick in that blood, as you well know from watching his actions. That's flesh and blood connection girl. What's to say she isn't planning something like he does?"

"Girl?" She crossed her arms with a snort. "I'm no more a girl than Jocelyn is. I'm a woman and you well know it, Roland." Regarding him with narrowed eyes, she continued. "Germaine says she won't betray us."

"Since when does Germaine know everything?"

"He knows this family. He grew up with them."

"Fine." Roland ran an irritated hand along his jaw. "You'll do what you want regardless of what I say. Just...don't go alone into that house, Christiana. I can't go and neither can Germaine for obvious reasons. I don't..." He gave a frustrated sigh. "I don't like it. Send for Wat. Have him go with you."

Protective men. It seemed she was surrounded by them. Roland and Germaine both. They behaved as though she hadn't an ounce of sense in her brain, which was beyond maddening. "I can't. There's no one to spare. I'll have an escort there and that's all. besides, it'll be awhile before there is an answer. We may need to find a different course of action anyway."

It didn't pacify him, nor did she expect it to. The rest of her visit was strained and she was glad to leave.

* * *

He was courting her. For some reason, that amused Kate to no end. He'd apparently decided pursue her slowly. He had clothes made for her, a drawn out process made more so when she refused to show up for fittings, necessitating in him tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her into the room while she beat her hands against his back. He'd then stood guard outside the room until fittings were completed.

She refused to wear the clothes, making sure all could hear her screaming that she'd not let him keep her like a whore. He could keep his clothes and let her go. Helene had pouted for days and reiterated that she thought Kate wanted him and Kate had better leave her dear Alain alone.

He tried to entice her with exotic fruits and delicacies from his kitchens. Kate declared herself missing good home cooking, despite her mouth watering from the taste of the chocolate he'd managed to cram in her mouth when she'd opened it in protest. Helene asked for a taste also and was disappointed when told there was no more. She then told Kate privately to stop throwing herself at Alain.

Alain this and Alain that. Some days Kate wished the woman would make good on her threats of violence and actually do something. It was wearying to have the woman constantly threatening and never acting.

She finally met the girls she'd seen her first day there. They were Adhemar's daughters. She must have been blind not to see the family resemblance. They were, respectively and from oldest to youngest, Olivia, Lisette, and Mary. Their nurse was May. Kate liked to spend time with the girls. Olivia declared her 'grand fun' to play with and she played many games of chase and hide and seek with them during the day. What else did she have to do? Nothing. She had nothing to fill her days and end the tedium.

It was distressing to realize that the longer she didn't work, the harder it would be to return to it once Adhemar released her. Kate sighed, watching the flames in the fire and giving only half an ear to the stories the men told at the table behind her. When would he release her? She doubted it was going to be soon. In fact, she was beginning to doubt she was ever going to leave this home.

A laugh caught her attention and she looked over her shoulder. Adhemar was laughing, his head thrown back with humor. It suited him. A pensive sigh left her. He was different here, not as cold or as cruel. He was still arrogant and spiteful, but there was a softness she'd not noticed during tournament. Her gaze lingered on his handsome features, a tiny frown crossing her brow when Helene's hand got in the way.

The blond had taken to staying downstairs after the evening meal, though it had been her custom to retire to her room and she made it plain she disliked the coarse talk the men engaged in. Kate didn't mind the talk. It made her comfortable, reminded her of the friends she'd left behind. Occasionally, she'd ventured to make a comment or two and been surprised when they seemed to enjoy her efforts at conversation. Even Alain.

Kate blinked, realizing that his gaze had met hers and he was giving her a puzzled look. Quickly, she turned away. Alain? She meant Adhemar of course. Always Adhemar. Nothing more.

Never more than that.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Sixteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

She was watching him. Kate did that in the evenings. She sat before the fire and watched him interact with his men. Could that be considered progress? He thought so. The only chink in his plan was that Helene had suddenly become sociable in a manner of speaking. She wanted to sit beside him after the meal, yet still protested the coarse words of his men, flinching at the ribald jokes and generally making her displeasure known.

Why did she join them then?

He disentangled his arm from Helene and got up, taking his cup and moving to join Kate by the fire. She sat on one large fur that had been spread there and he sat close to her, close enough that his leg brushed hers when he stretched his out straight. She shifted a little, but didn't move her leg away from his. Ahh, progress. A month ago she would have jerked away and given an angry retort. It was heartening to see that a bit of kindness could melt her like it did other women. It simply took more time.

Alain Adhemar had all the time in the world to spend wooing his Kate. His army disbanded temporarily, he'd sent his trusted men to various other locales to inquire about work. There was always someone needing an army, the more mercenary of forces the better and his men were just that. He had time before the men returned, likely all winter and possibly spring as well before he heard from all of them and could weigh the offers of work. Alain was going to tend to his duties as Count, spend what time his mother had left with her, and keep making Kate offers she couldn't refuse in the end.

She glanced at him, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the fire. He took the opportunity to give her a warm grin and then study her profile when she sniffed and looked away. She had a classic profile, delicate and strong at the same time and he wished he'd paid more attention during his study of sketching long years earlier. As it was, should he decide to attempt to draw her on parchment, he'd not do her beauty any justice. Perhaps he'd commission a painter to do her portrait. A struggling painter, someone from the village who had a spark of talent and needed coin. Kate would hate it.

He decided to have a man ask about for an artist during the next week.

His glance strayed down from her profile and a frown creased his brow. How many more wears of that drab brown dress could she get? He was half tempted to rip it off her just so she couldn't keep wearing it. "You should wear the orange, or maybe the burgundy."

"Not together I trust."

"Of course not. One one day and the other the next. Really, Kate, your wardrobe is singularly lacking in choices at the moment. At least, the wardrobe you brought with you. The one I bought you, however, is filled with pretty choices."

"I've told you what you can do with your wardrobe."

"Not today you haven't. In fact, you've been downright genial. Kate, you're slipping. You've not screamed at me once today to release you."

She opened her mouth to give a retort, then closed it, her eyes narrowing as she thought. After long seconds, she answered him. "It does me no good to be at odds with you. I'm no closer to my freedom now than I was the night you tracked me down. I'm weary of demanding my freedom. You know I desire it and so does everyone else. There's no point in continuing to scream it, is there?"

Alain sat back, overlapping his arm with hers. Still, she didn't jerk away. He leaned close to speak in her ear. "I want you, Kate, I've made no bones about it, but I'm willing to be patient and that is strange for me. I am not a patient man." She shivered a little and he thought her breath seemed to be a bit faster than it had been. "For you I will be patient."

She swallowed hard. "And you'll be waiting a long time."

"I don't think so. If I am, then so what? It's my time to spend waiting."

Kate turned her head, her lips a fraction of an inch from his, her gaze meeting his. "Let me go, Count."

"Where would be the fun in that?" He was leaning the last little bit to claim her lips with his and she was remarkably not moving, when a crash startled him. Alain looked over his shoulder. Helene was standing at the table, her chair on the floor. Even from his place across the room, he could tell she was upset. She said nothing though, watching him with Kate. How amusing. She was not a wife to have the right to be upset with his attentions to Kate, yet she behaved as one. He'd have to take care of that soon.

Kate got to her feet. "I'll say good night, then." She didn't move, her feet remaining motionless. He tilted his head back to look at her. In her eyes was a spark of longing.

Alain also got to his feet, one hand stretching out to grasp hers. Their fingers twined and Kate turned her regard to their hands. Twice, she opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came from her lips. Ignoring Helene, he leaned down to speak in Kate's ear.

"Your eyes invite me, but I think I'll only walk you up this time. Nothing more." Her temple was tempting him and he gave in to that temptation, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to the smooth flesh before leading her towards the stairs.

Behind them, Helene gave a muted yell of frustration and in seconds the door leading to the outside slammed. Alain led Kate to her chamber.

* * *

What am I doing, Kate thought, her mind in turmoil. Her hand was firmly tucked into his and she'd not even refuted that invitation he claimed she held plain in her gaze. She was going insane, that had to be it. God above knew she wouldn't willingly let him lead her anywhere. She should be yelling and screaming; keeping up the fuss she'd made from the beginning about his pursuit of her.

Who was she trying to kid? She found she no longer wanted to be completely away from him. He was charming her. Oh sure, he was all those things she despised; hateful, cruel, snide. He was also things she loved. Intelligent, loving of his family and playful when the mood struck him. The man didn't always brood and sulk. Germaine had adequately described him with one word: child. Adhemar was a grown man who was very childlike in his pursuits. He was impatient, yet patient when he had to be. He was spoiled and used to having his way, throwing tantrums when he found his goal unattainable. And yet.... He could accept defeat gracefully when that defeat was complete.

He intrigued her and to no little end. The man was a mass of contradictions and Kate could not resist the temptation to reason them out.

Kate followed him up the stairs, her eyes feasting upon his form. He'd neglected his jacket in the warmth of the hall and his shirt lay snug to his wide shoulders. His waist was trim and she could not help but admire the rest of him as well. Hours spent training each day had kept his muscles tight and toned.

Her heart was thudding with abandon and she could imagine his warm hands gliding over her body in long, slowly sensuous strokes. The image of that resonated within her mind, a heat flushing her cheeks.

They stopped outside her door. The expression upon his face was not an easy one to decipher. Longing and lust, yes. But there was something indefinable beneath those two, giving a subtle change to his features and making them serious. "I won't try to come in, Kate, though I dearly want to."

"So noble," She whispered. "Honorable. When did _you_ grow a conscience?"

His hand released hers, those fingers slipping up her arm and to her face, trailing over her features with slow movements. He traced her forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, then cupped her jaw and drew his thumb across her lower lip. "If I'd been so misfortunate as to grow a conscience, Kate, I'd have released you by now. There's no conscience involved in my longings for you."

"Why do you not press me then? Why bother wooing me slowly? I'm no high born lady to be impressed by such gestures." Tentatively, she rested her hands at the waist of his pants. When he didn't move forward as though encouraged, she kept them there.

"I savor what I want when I have it in my grasp." His other hand came up, tangled in her hair. "You know that."

"I'm not in your grasp yet." Her body was a traitor to her, warming, enjoying the brush of his body to hers. The closeness was more than physical. In a moment of complete clarity, Kate understood what he meant. She fully understood the workings of Alain Adhemar's mind.

"You will be."

"So confident."

"How else should I be?"

His lips lowered, a breath away from hers, their eyes meeting, staring. A battle of wills to see who would cave and either pull away or kiss first. How long they stood that way, Kate didn't know. All she was aware of was that it was exquisite torture. _This_ was why he waited. _This_ was why he didn't sweep her into his arms and let passion's haste carry her into acquiescence. This chase, the game between them -- one she had not been aware of playing until this moment -- was far better foreplay than hours spent tangled together amid silken sheets.

A trickle of sweat ran down her brow from the effort not to close her eyes or pull away. In this, Kate was determined to be the victor. Let him weaken first.

"A stalemate?" he murmured. "How delightfully unexpected. And how typically you." Adhemar sighed. "Very well, my Kate. I yield to you this round." Lifting his head slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and stepped away from her, letting his hands slide off her jaw in tiny increments. "Sleep well."

His words held s tremor to them, satisfying to Kate in the same way a job well done satisfied her. She sagged against her door, watching him until he was down the stairs and out of sight. For the first time, Kate felt she had some control over her situation. She'd met his challenge and won. Her lips twitched with a smile.

Going into her room, she set about getting ready for bed. Once she was ready, she allowed herself a moment of sensual pleasure in the clothes that had been made for her. She did this every night. A part of her hated the grudging attachment to the pretty clothing, but another part could not see the harm in admiring the pieces. After all, she had no intention of wearing them if she could help it. Her favorite surcoats were taken out and spread upon the bed.

There was a bright blue, a deep red, vibrant orange and her very favorite of all: a dark green surcoat made of soft material, far richer than her work roughened hands had ever touched. The dresses to go beneath were of lighter shades of the colors.

He'd spent more money on her than she'd make in years. For clothing. He'd done so knowing full well she'd refuse them. Why? He didn't have to give her anything. The answer to that was plain now. The dance between them. It was all a part of this back and forth they were engaged in. While it still boggled her mind that he'd been so generous, she could see the why of it.

Carefully, Kate put the clothes away and glanced down at herself. She'd made one concession to her refusal to wear the clothes. This concession was one he'd not know about if she had any say in the matter. The shift. Within the collection of clothes he'd had made for her had been the very finest of shifts, a white embroidered on white creation that was feminine to the extreme. Kate loved it. She loved the feel of it against her skin and the beauty of the embroidery. She rarely had the occasion to wear anything with embroidery, though she liked such adornments on clothing.

Her daily life was not conducive to wearing such garments. Her work was hot and hard and dirty and it would be a shame for pretty things to become ruined in the space of an hour or two.

Each night when she went to bed, she wore the garment and each morning, she packed it away so no one would see that she had softened even the tiniest bit towards him. Kate blew out the candles, climbed into her wide, comfortable bed, and was fast asleep in minutes.

* * *

Rather than rejoin the men in the hall, Adhemar went to the back of the manor and let himself out the back and into the garden. Why had he retreated? A few more seconds and he thought Kate would have surrendered. A frown curled his brow and he found a low bench, sitting down upon it to think.

Tactical retreat. That was it. He'd let her win this round, but she was just as effected by him as he was by her. She'd been sweating same as him. Her hands hand trembled like his and her lips had been a fraction of a second from parting as his had been. This chase was right. He felt it in every part of his being. They should not give in too soon to the pull between them.

It occurred to him that he was not quite as cock-sure of himself as he'd been. Kate was still largely an unknown. She wanted him. That couldn't be denied, but he still knew little of her. His efforts to woo her were going nowhere fast. The clothes didn't cause her to soften and food delicacies left her grimacing. So what, with his Kate, was going to do the trick? What was going to turn her towards him?

He ruminated on that awhile, ignoring duties he should be concentrating on instead, like the re-thatching of the laundry and the dispersing of his men through out his lands until word from the others came. For once in his life, his thoughts centered fully on a woman.

With a sigh, he got up and began to stroll the garden. The weather was growing cooler and soon it would be winter. He'd like to have Kate in his bed by then. The winter months went quicker and more pleasantly with a woman beside him in bed.

Aimlessly, he wandered the grounds, coming to a stop before his blacksmith's lean-to. The man had been sick recently and the physician reported that only time would tell if his health would improve or not. Alain had several letters ready to send out, inquiring of his family if they'd a smith to spare until he could find a new one. Sickness didn't get the work done and the work was beginning to pile up. He needed a new smith immediately.

He began to laugh. The way to a woman's heart was in those things she held dear to herself. Clothes and food didn't impress Kate because she held them in little regard. But her work.... He'd seen those longing glances she'd thrown towards this cottage; heard her muttered grumblings about being unable to work.

Yes. How could he not have seen it before?

* * *

He was at her bedside, sitting beside her, his attention focused on the window. It was instantly obvious to Kate that she'd neglected to put the bar on her door the night before. The thought didn't distress her though. No, what distressed her was the thought that he was going to notice she was wearing the shift.

"The embroidery was done by my mother." He turned his head, gesturing to her as she dragged the covers up to cover her. "She was working on that shift when we arrived here. It was her gift to you." That gaze returned to the window and he shifted almost uncomfortably. "She's never shown such..._favor_ before. My mother does not give gifts to my women. She said once that gifts from family go to wives, not lovers. You've found approval in her eyes."

"I'll thank her for it. The embroidery is lovely."

Adhemar nodded, then stood and turned to peruse her. "You're beautiful in the morning, Kate. Has any man told you that?"

"My husband did. Nearly every day until he died."

He made no comment, flinging the rest of her bed curtains wide. At the trunk at the foot of the bed, he lifted her dresses and surcoats, the two she had there. A grim smile tightened his lips. Before she could move, he'd taken his dagger from his belt. With a gasp, she realized what he intended. Kate fairly flew from the bed towards him, grasping at him, but he would not be deterred. In minutes, he'd reduced her clothes to scraps of fabric in a heap on the ground.

"As much as I like the white dress, it was getting tiring."

Kate slipped onto her knees, her mouth half open, trying to find the words to rail at him for what he'd done. Her clothes were gone. Only the ones he'd had made for her were left. "Bastard," she whispered.

The knife was sheathed in a quick jerk. "Now you have no excuses not to wear the ones I had made."

"I'd sooner go naked."

A snort and a roll of his eyes. "Then do it already."

"Like hell."

Adhemar crouched down. "Clothes are clothes, Kate. They mean nothing save decency from the elements. You needed clothes and I had them made for you. You concede nothing by wearing them."

She stared stonily at him. He'd get pleasure by seeing her wearing them. How was that not conceding anything?

"You advance, I advance. That's how this game goes. We're once more even, Kate. You won last night and I this morning." Satisfaction glinted in his eyes and he stood. "Now, get dressed. We've got something to discuss, you and I, a rather important something." He left, slamming the door behind him. It was then that she noticed the bar for her door was gone.

Spitefully, she chose the plainest of the lot, a dark red that was nearly brown in shade and sported no adornments. Her hair she plaited into a braid. There. Done. She swore to herself that she wasn't going to cry, not over those two dresses. He was right. Clothes meant decency from the elements, nothing more. However, she couldn't help the sensation of loss for those two dresses. The brown had been the last one her husband had splurged to have made for her. She'd not had to sew it herself as she had all her others. No, he'd taken her into the merchant's shop, picked out the cloth and paid good coin that he'd saved away to give her that present. A tiny luxury he'd sacrificed to give her.

The end of another time in her life. In a scant two months, her life had been turned upside down.

She had no choice but to wear what Adhemar bought her or go naked and naked was not a good decision. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out her door.

He was waiting there for her, his temper tantrum about her clothes gone, the grip he took on her arm firm without hurting. They went down the stairs. Adhemar towed her along behind him as he had many times before, an enthusiastic energy in his stride and in the coaxing words he tossed at her.

"Come on, Kate. Quit dragging your feet."

"I'll quit dragging when you quit pulling." Which, of course, had him tugging her arm harder, nearly causing her to trip. "Honestly. Slow down. I can't keep up." Her skirts twisted about her legs with the energetic stride she had to adopt and her statement was truth. His long legs ate up the ground far easier than her shorter ones.

"So run."

"No."

They were being stared at by every person they passed. He took her out the main door, into the courtyard and across to the blacksmith station. It was deserted. Adhemar swung her forward and released her arm. Kate's speed took her into the large lean-to, where she skidded to a halt, catching herself with the edge of a table. She turned to face him, palms flat on the table top. "Why am I here?"

He crossed his arms, gave a nonchalant shrug. "My smith died sometime in the night. He'd no apprentice."

Kate stared at him. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Did he mean to set her up here? "So?" She crossed her arms as well.

"You're qualified, from what I understand."

"And?"

His glance took in the work area. "All the proper tools should be present. If not, speak with my steward. He'll see your needs are met." When his gaze returned to hers, he made another shrug. "Thatcher's armor, Kate. It tells its own tale of your qualifications."

"And you'd be stupid not to utilize them, yes?"

"You understand then." He came forward, hands going to her arms, fingers caressing along their backs. "I will pay the going rate, but you will work only the hours I set for you." Now his hands slid up to her neck, cupping, thumbs sweeping along her jaw. "I didn't bring you to my home to smith and I'll not have you spending all your time at it. A secondary smith will be brought in to meet whatever you choose not to work at."

A laugh came unbidden from her throat. "You'll give me authority over him then?"

"Yes."

He was trying to be sly, to manipulate her. "How did your previous man die?"

"Suddenly."

"Quite a coincidence, him dying so suddenly last night." That ruthless gleam was back in his eyes, the one that intimated he'd do anything to meet his goals. Even murder a man? Kate didn't doubt it. He'd do it without a thought of regret if the man stood in his way.

"You may work in the mornings. Afternoons and evenings are to be kept open for my convenience." With that, he left her in the lean-to.

* * *

The fish pond was fairly jumping with fish. Helene barely noticed, however. She was feeling rather depressed. Alain didn't look at her twice if he could help it and she was getting nowhere in her campaign to win him back from the clutches of that _Kate_. She spent her days following him around and her nights aching for one word from his lips. He was oblivious, spending all of his energies upon the other woman.

It had become clear that Kate had bewitched him. He was doing all those little things he did when infatuated with a woman. He was buying her trinkets and clothing, giving her tastes of wonderful foods. He stole kisses, teased and tempted. He was Helene's no longer and the knowledge was a sharp pain in her stomach. She was helpless. Kate had some power that she lacked, some manner about her that drew Alain away. What could it be? She was only a peasant, but there was obviously some power there. Look at how Alain was behaving. He treated the peasant like a noble lady.

Kate was a witch. That was it. That was the reason. Kate was a witch and only Helene could see her for what she was. Even the lady Isobelle was taken in.

Not for long, she thought. In a week of two, the bits of herb Helene snuck into the woman's food and drink would take their final toll. The lady would die and Helene could comfort Alain in his time of grief. He loved his mother, he really did. Helene didn't particularly like her, but how she'd understand his pain! The woman was between them, like Kate was, telling Alain lies, trying to keep them apart. Therefore, removing the mother was putting her once more closer to Alain's heart.

Helene got up. She had to confront Kate and if that did not go well, she'd finally take action on the witch.

* * *

For a week, Kate had blissfully worked in the mornings. It was a disappointment when her hours were up and she'd found herself trying to squeeze every single minute she could from the morning. She rose before the sun and was working even as the rosy rays of dawn crept up to warm the earth. Her muscles protested, but it was a protest honestly earned. Adhemar was as good as his word, paying her for each job completed. An account was begun for her, kept by one man who came by the lean-to each day at the same time to see the work.

Strange to think of Adhemar as keeping his word, but he did.

She wanted to work all day again, but didn't tempt fate. Adhemar could easily change his mind if she pushed him on this and then she'd be stuck in the house with that idiot Helene.

Kate's thoughts turned to that one as she cleaned up for the day. Helene had gotten stranger and stranger since Kate had arrived here. At first, she'd seemed somewhat rational, but lately all rational thought had flown from her head. She spied on Kate, watched her from afar and became angry at the attention Adhemar paid Kate. Helene angry was not a pretty sight. Her face became blotchy and an unhealthy purple color flushed her skin.

Wiping her hands on a cloth, Kate started to leave the lean-to, pausing to watch Adhemar wrestling on the grass. He was training, as he did in the mornings, a group of men around him, egging him on against his opponent. Kate admired the figure he made, strong and triumphant with his opponent pinned. He enjoyed those games the men played. Archery contests, wrestling contests, hand-to-hand combat contests. He was proficient with a sword as well, training under the demanding eye of Fawkes.

Fawkes was tall and rail thin, with grizzled features that had seen better days. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with gray and his arms didn't look strong enough to wield a sword. Kate had seen him in action though. The man was a master at the sword. He'd be able to teach Will a thing or two and Will was a natural swordsman. In fact, she thought Fawkes would be delighted to teach Will technique. He seemed to enjoy the process of teaching. His method was simple. Incense the student into doing something stupid, then point out the error and drill them on how to avoid it in the future. He certainly got Adhemar's temper flayed to breaking in minutes. Kate had watched, amused, as Fawkes taunted the man and yelled insults at him until he struck. Adhemar had taken the lesson far better than Kate had thought he would, listening to the suggestions and implementing them.

She could see why Count Adhemar was in demand as a soldier. He had a knack for battle strategy.

Kate turned from the group of men and headed for the house. She intended to have a bath before the noon meal and perhaps visit with Lady Isobelle or the children. She didn't get far before Helene blocked the path.

"Leave here, Kate. You've freedom, so don't give me one word about being kept prisoner. You could easily leave if you so choose."

"Do we have to do this right now, Helene? I'm in no mood for your nonsense."

"Nonsense is it?"

Kate's arm was grasped and she glanced coldly at that hand on her. "I suggest you take your hand from me."

"I know what you are," Helene whispered, licking her lips. "I know that you've somehow cast a spell on my Alain to keep him from me and I won't allow you to keep doing so."

Kate sighed. "You're imaging things, now release me." The last word was cut off when Helene's hand shot forward, cracking against Kate's cheek.

She slapped me, Kate thought. The bitch slapped me.

Wrenching her arm free, Kate took a step back. Annoyance filled her. Helene was waving her hands in the air as though doing so would ward off whatever retaliatory move Kate would make. As Wat had once showed her, she drew her arm back and snapped a punch forward. The force of the blow sent Helene whirling, her skirts tangling in her legs and tripping her. Once she'd slammed onto the ground with a thud, Kate put her hands on her hips and raised her brows. "Are we done, Helene?"

Slowly, clutching her cheek, the woman nodded. She seemed shocked that Kate had struck her. Why on earth Helene should be surprised when she fought back was beyond her.

Behind her came Adhemar's voice. "Is there a problem?"

Kate skirted Helene and began to walk towards the manor. "I handled it, thank you." She didn't look back and he didn't pursue her.

* * *

There was a welt on Helen's cheek where Kate had slugged her and she was somewhat subdued, meek even. Alain motioned her into the room with a flick of one finger. He'd never seen Helene this way. He kept her waiting after that.

He'd not expected the two women to come to blows, but as he'd predicted, Kate had won. He recalled that morning. Kate had been watching him wrestle and once the match concluded, she'd started towards the manor. Helene had stopped her and the two had had words. What they said, he was not privy to. Helene had slapped Kate and Kate had punched her. That was the end of that and when he'd asked if there was a problem, Kate coldly informed him that she'd handled it.

Alain finally decided an action to take with Helene. The letter to her father was ready to go out. "Your behavior has been reprehensible, Helene." Alain carefully set his pen down and clasped his hands on the tabletop, regarding her with a frown.

"I'm sorry, my lord." She kept her eyes downcast and her hands folded together.

"You should be. I've written to your father. If he chooses not to find a husband for you, then I've offered to do so. You shall remain here -- if that is the case -- until you marry. I expect you to do as my mother commands you until the time you are no longer in this household." Though he waited, she made no comment. "Do you comprehend, Helene?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You'll be courteous to Kate and to my mother's new companion as well. No more of these temper tantrums."

"Yes, my lord."

He sat back in his chair. Surely Kate's little tap hadn't cowed Helene so easily. "You and I are through. I have no affection left for you, but I am willing to see you provided for suitably. I suspect your father will jump to have me find you a match. In that case, I've several men in mind that I believe you'll be suited for." Sliding the chair back, he stood. "Mother will likely put you with the maids to work, but I'll leave your duties to her discretion. Go see her now. She's expecting you."

* * *

It was time; time to admit to herself that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Kate left her room, that huge chamber he'd given her, and stood in the hallway listening. The manor was quiet, mostly settled for the night, although she could still hear a few men below in the Great Hall. Adhemar was with them, she'd wager a bet on that. He enjoyed sitting with his men until late, recounting tale after tale -- many overblown in her opinion -- of the feats of the Free Companies and of Adhemar's prowess with women. They didn't always discuss battle and women. No, sometimes they talked of hunting as well, those tales as exaggerated as those on the other topics.

She joined them sometimes, but not often anymore. They told their tales to make themselves greater in each other's eyes. What she missed, were the deeper discussions she'd been a part of in Will's group. Geoff had often brought up such weighted subjects, asking their opinions, listening interestedly to each and sometimes heaving a sigh before calmly explaining what a word meant or how an edict would affect them. Educating them, he'd called it. Kate had rather liked that education effort. How often did a woman like herself have a chance to learn those things? Schooling was for the upper class, the nobility, not for peasants. Peasants had no need, usually, of books and pen and paper.

The debates that Geoff brought about were more than about politics and philosophies. They were about making all the facts known to all listening and hearing what each person felt on the matter. Kate, for example, had never given much thought to trade issues, save how it directly affected her. Geoff taught her to look at a wider viewpoint.

She applied that wider viewpoint now.

Satisfied that they were still going strong on their story telling, Kate let her glance stray behind her, at the section of wall beside her door. He'd kissed her there, not two days before, shoved her up against the stone wall and ravished her mouth until her lips were tender and she'd begun to respond to the aggressive display. She always responded in the end, for she wasn't truly fighting _him_, but rather herself.

He'd stepped back then, just as her traitorous hands slipped around to his back and she'd pressed herself to him. Though she'd expected to see satisfaction in his intense gaze, there was none, only a brief flash of sadness and need twined as one. He'd swallowed hard, an audible gulp, his breath shaking. His fingers had lifted tendrils of her black tresses from her breast, curling them about his fingers.

"You torture yourself more than you do me, I believe."

With a last quick and thrilling pass of his lips to hers, he'd turned and crossed the hall to his chamber. The door closed without him looking back once. Kate had gone into her own chamber and cried bitter tears for the silent war between her body and mind. Her body wanted him with a consuming passion, but her mind rejected the very thought of him.

Count Alain Adhemar was a dangerous man.

Looking at the wider view, she could see that _she_ was dangerous to _him_. She upset his control, evinced every day by his distraction in his duties. She had become his obsession, to the point that he would often watch her without saying one word. There was a power in realizing that, a power she'd previously lacked. If she tried hard enough, she could twist him about her little finger and begin to win the game between them. Their intrigues had gone on long enough.

With a tiny smile, Kate crossed the hallway and into his chamber.

Admitting to herself that she wanted him opened up a world of possibilities, if only she could get her mind in agreement for longer than a few minutes at a time. The room was dominated by a large canopied bed. A few standing candelabras held fat candles unlit. A fire burned low in the fireplace. Kate stepped to the table, picking up several papers and looking at them. It was a pity she couldn't read. She could be entertained while she waited if she could. There were several papers spread out on the surface.

Returning them to their places, she moved towards the bed, stopping a step shy of it. Her hazy memories of that night in London were no longer hazy. Gradually, the events that had transpired had come into focus, though not completely clear. She remembered being in the tavern and watching all of her friends pair off for the night, leaving her with Wat.

They'd been eating, Wat ordering more and more and Kate drinking more and more as she watched him. Since she'd refused him once before, she'd thought perhaps she'd make a move. He was fairly attractive, though she wasn't honestly attracted to him. A woman had the right to change her mind, didn't she? So, as the evening progressed, she'd slid closer to him and closer and closer until she was practically in his lap. Had he stopped eating for a single second? No, he'd ignored her, prompting her to make a snide remark about his empty stomach. That remark had sparked an argument and right when all the liquor hit her, she'd flounced out of the tavern.

She'd run into Adhemar and remembered thinking that at least _he_ knew when to pay attention to a woman. Yes, she'd gone willingly to his room. While she couldn't remember what they'd talked about, she remembered sitting on his lap, his hand down her bodice as they'd talked. The next bit was somewhat foggy, but he was indeed right. She had jumped on him so hard that they'd fallen to the floor.

What happened next was passionate and beautiful and might not have happened if she hadn't been starving for male attention of the physical kind. Kate liked having a man close to her, liked being kissed and cuddled and made love to as much as the next woman, and she was starving for affection. With too much liquor in her, she'd given in to the wild streak she kept firmly hidden inside her, heading straight for the arms of the most dangerous man she knew of. Adhemar.

Kate undid her surcoat. The bed was turned down, waiting. When Alain came to bed, she'd be waiting there for him.

* * *

She wasn't in her room, but he didn't think she'd left. Kate had had ample opportunity to flee and hadn't, so he assumed she was in the manor somewhere. A closer look found her shoes near the bed. Wherever she was, she'd gone barefoot.

He went to his own room, throwing open the door and pausing at the sight greeting him. His prayers had been answered. From the doorway, he could see directly to the head of his bed. Kate was sitting in the center of that wide, comfortable bed, pale shoulders pearly in the moonlight, her hair long and loose.

Desire shot through him. She was here, finally, but on her terms. She'd kept him waiting, made his chase her own and her surrender was her decision. Not his. His pursuit had not swayed her. By coming here, she was stating that yes, she'd be his mistress, but he wouldn't own her. She was her own woman, not his.

How could a man claim to own a wild thing, for Kate was wild. She had a wild heart, a yearning within her sensible self for that which was not sensible. There was a time to throw caution to the wind and give in the impulse to seek out what one considered dangerous and apparently, that time had come for her. She wanted him and was ready to admit it.

"Come to bed," she said calmly, as though it was something she said every night. "Alain."

Her use of his name sent a shudder rippling along his flesh. _Yes_. He shut the door and went to her.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Seventeen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

A sense of deja-vu swept over Kate, her mind sending her back to that morning just over two months earlier. Waking now was much like waking then in the fact that she woke with _him_. This time, there was no dreadful hangover pounding at her skull and no surges of nausea proclaiming that she'd drunk far too much.

A hand trailed along the bare flesh of her arm, lips kissed her shoulder. "I half expected you to flee in the night like last time."

She rolled onto her back, stared up at him a moment, then shook her head. "I made my decision with a clear head. I stand by it."

If Kate wanted more than a quick affair with him, she'd have to keep him a constant state of fascination with her. So far, she'd done that unknowingly. How she fascinated him exactly, she didn't know. Was it the chase itself that had snared this man? Or was it something more? Now that she'd given in, would he become bored with her as he had with that wretched Helene? She'd no desire to become like that woman, fawning over him in hopes of a ten second acknowledgement. That was a pathetic existence, something Kate didn't really count as living.

"Good. I'm in no mood to chase you again so quickly."

"I'm in no mood to run."

Kate slid her hand up, buried it in his hair. She met the kiss he gave her and the morning hours slid away into rapture.

* * *

In all his years of serving, Wat had managed to avoid being pressed to serve in a war with his master. Now, several masters down the line and technically not a servant any longer, he went willingly onto the battlefield.

He shifted in the saddle.

All right, not willingly. But he did go for the sake of a friend. For Kate. That would be his battle cry against Kit's brother's army. _For Kate. _His lips twitched as he imagined himself riding across a field shouting it out at the top of his lungs. What a sight he'd be.

If he was telling the truth, he also went for Will. No man should go into battle without a friend at his back. He wasn't particularly happy with saving Adhemar's neck, but if the end result was Kate safe and sound back in the arms of all her friends, then so be it. Wat would hold his tongue, an exercise in restraint that was hard to keep at. For once in his life, he'd keep such a tight reign on his tongue that none who knew him would recognize him.

This road was long. In two days, they'd rendezvous with Kit's army, then continue to the southern road and into battle.

Wat took in the lush scenery; the wildflowers cheerfully bright along the side of the road and in the meadows; the green carpet of grasses. There were many lovely places to dally and while away the hours along this road. They had no time to do so and little time to rest. Kit was in a hurry, anxious to meet his brother now that he'd decided to stop him.

He sighed. By the time they returned -- _if_ they returned and didn't go to their graves -- the flowers would be gone and winter settling onto the land. He took his fill now of the warmth of the sun and the beautiful flowers and vowed to hold the sights in his mind for contemplation on a cold gray day.

Will rode silently beside him. Wat could only wonder at the will power it took for a newly married man to leave his bride so soon after the wedding. Then again, friends meant the world to Will and he made no bones about letting the fact be known. He would do anything for his friends, even ride off to war.

They'd all naïvely assumed their adventure was over when Adhemar was unhorsed and Will won the joust. They'd celebrated and looked forward to settling back into sedate life. Idly, he wondered what Geoff would say of this turn. He imagined the other man taking it all in stride, declaring delight in the prospect of continuing excitement. He'd talk of writing it down, of sharing the story with the world.

Wat sighed once more. All he'd ever wanted in life was to own his own tavern, a place where he could serve good food and enjoy the company of those who passed through the doors. It was looking like his dream was never going to be realized.

His regard turned to Kit. Were all men stupid in love? Yes, he thought, a huge resounding affirmative. The touch of a woman's hand, gentle upon our arm and we go as soft as rotten fruit. All of us.

Kit had fallen for his sister-in-law. He loved her and he'd watched his brother try to destroy her until he could stand it no longer. His objective was to destroy his own brother, to strike down a man filled with hatred and greed. He then planned to approach Bess' brother about marrying her. Kit never had mentioned whether or not Bess reciprocated that feeling of love. It seemed to Wat that he was assuming she did based upon the light conversation the two of them had had in that household. Assuming was never a good thing, he'd found. It often got one into trouble.

This war was trouble. Neither he nor Will were soldiers, but here they were.

Lovely.

* * *

Christiana was glad when her journey came to an end. Lady Elizabeth had protected her well, but she was sick to death of the conversations of men. She found she was looking forward to meeting Lady Isobelle and seeing Kate again.

Adhemar met them, his brows raising when she lowered the hood of her cloak. "Christiana," he murmured, a calculating gleam appearing in his eyes. On it's heels was a smile that suggested he'd learned something of great importance and found it humorous.

Quickly, she handed over the letter from Lady Elizabeth and waited demurely while he read it. It didn't take him long. In minutes, he'd handed the letter to a man waiting and crossed his arms.

"Under what circumstances did Lady Jocelyn part with her favorite maid?" His voice was nonchalant.

"The letter --" she began.

"Tells me nothing," he interrupted." "Why did you leave Lady Jocelyn's employ?"

Now was the time to give the full story she and Jocelyn had agreed upon. "Her father decided Sir William should pay for my employ and if he couldn't, I was to find employ elsewhere. I was an unnecessary expense once she married."

He nodded, circling her. "Of course. Unnecessary." Back in front of her, he grasped her chin, turned her face this way and that. "You look healthy enough, save that scratch. How did you find yourself with _my_ sister?" His tone indicated that it was quite a coincidence that she'd been hired by his sister. Amazing even.

"I was on my way back to my home region and got caught in a storm. Her party rescued me, cared for me and she offered me a position."

Adhemar snorted. "That certainly sounds like Elizabeth. She'll take in any stray she comes across." He jerked his head towards the manor, releasing her. "Well, you might as well stay. Mother no longer needs a full time companion, but I believe you could help with the children in afternoons and evenings."

"A companion has been found already?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Arrangements were made for her belongings to be taken into the manor and then, he led her across the courtyard, stopping near a lean-to. His hand swept towards the lean-to in invitation. "I believe you know Kate? _Sir_ William's blacksmith."

Christiana struggled to show surprise. It was difficult though, already knowing that Kate was in the Adhemar household. "Kate is here?"

"Oh yes, I thought you knew. Thatcher _did_ send you to..." his eyes narrowed. "_rescue_ her, did he not?"

"I..."

"Kate has no need of rescue," he announced firmly, striding into the lean-to. The sounds of work stopped and Christiana heard Kate's voice asking what he wanted because she still had a couple hours until the noon meal quitting time.

Kate was brought out, her mouth opening at seeing Christiana there. "Christiana. What are you doing here?" She wiped her hands on her surcoat and came forward, embracing her, then gingerly touching the nearly healed wound on Christiana's brow. "When did this happen?"

Adhemar strolled to them, putting his arm about Kate's shoulders. "Quit early today, Kate. I think Christiana has quite a tale to share with you." Without taking his triumphant gaze from Christiana's, he dropped a kiss to Kate's temple. "I'll leave you to show Christiana around, hmm?"

Mercifully, he left them alone. Christiana was quick to ask about the circumstances, but Kate would tell her nothing as they strolled the manor, only that she'd come to terms with herself and was content.

"Content? Here? Kate, we worried about you. You left so quickly, not stopping to speak to any but Roland." She made a tiny noise in the back of her throat. "Count Adhemar showed up not long after you left, looking for you."

Kate led her into a bedchamber just to the right at the top of the stairs. She gestured about with one hand. "I sleep here."

Christiana glanced at the bed and at the clothes laid atop the trunk. She perused the furnishings, then cast a shrewd eye at Kate. "It's obvious that whatever relationship you share with him is not a chaste one. That arm he placed about you outside was possessive, as was the kiss. Sleep, Kate, was not what had you running from him in the first place."

The woman crossed her arms. "I really do sleep in this room." Her lips twitched with good humor. "Of course, that's not to mean that I sleep in here every night."

"You're really happy then? With Count Adhemar?" Christiana forced her tone to be idle, picking up one of the dresses on the trunk and running her fingers along the soft fabric. She adored fabrics; the sensual feel of them beneath her fingertips. It was one more thing she and Roland had in common. The love of fabric.

"I'm content for the time being. He's not as horrible as I thought." Going to the window, she perched upon the ledge, turning her face to the view. "He's contradictory in many ways and I find I'm...intrigued enough to stay." A glance over her shoulder. "Of course, just in case I decide to make a run for it, I'm still under guard. He doesn't trust me and I wouldn't either were I he, not with some of the things I've done these weeks."

"Like what?"

Kate laughed and shook her head. "Let's just say that I've been very disagreeable and taken it out on everyone and leave it at that."

Now Christiana took a closer look at the room. The wealth of this family was apparent on every surface she'd seen so far. Rugs covered tables, tapestries adorned walls and rich fabrics draped about the beds in the chambers. There were even some rugs on the floors, supplementing the rushes, though the rugs seemed reserved for the family chambers only. The Great Hall had permanent tables, not the sort that are taken down after each meal and several of the windows sported glass.

This room had a large rug on the floor. The chamber was well appointed, with beautifully carved chairs at a small table equally as beautiful. The bed curtains were thick and heavily lined to keep out the chill during the night and Christiana gave a quick thought to the structure of the upper levels. "This is the chamber set aside for the lady of the manor, isn't it? Not his mother, but his wife when he marries. This is where she will stay if she chooses not to stay with him in the master's chambers."

Kate stood. She seemed startled by Christiana's observation and that one wondered why. "I was told it's only an extra chamber. The best. For important guests."

The more Christiana looked about the chamber, the more she realized her assessment was correct. This was the lady of the manor's chamber. It was solely a woman's chamber, to keep women's things. Did it mean something in particular that Kate had been given that chamber? Was there some motivation that perhaps Adhemar himself didn't realize? The mildly unsettled sensation Christiana had been feeling at being found out so soon in her rescue plan melted away under the fascination of the relationship between Kate and Adhemar. She sensed, beneath the surface of it, something more than a battle of wills between the two. There were layers there that she decided to peel away -- for their own good, of course.

She'd played this game before and it was one she knew. No longer was this house unfamiliar territory. She could discern the truth of the two and, after six months, return to her friends with her mission accomplished, one way or another. Six months was surely long enough to know if Count Adhemar had intentions for Kate besides dalliance.

"Will you show me the gardens?" Christiana asked with a bright smile. "I'm anxious to learn more of this place if I'm to work here."

Kate gave her a funny look, but didn't comment, nodding amiably. They left the chamber.

If Kate had been better acquainted with Christiana, she'd have recognized the gleam in the woman's eyes and gone straight to Adhemar to beg him to send the woman away. But she didn't and was blissfully unaware of the workings of her mind.

* * *

The day was a fine one and it was too bad that London sanitation was not up to the standards of the country, Jocelyn thought, wrinkling her nose at the odor that came in through the window she'd opened. She was ready for some fresh air, but with chamber pots and everything else emptied into the streets, she was beginning to doubt there was any sweet air to be found in the whole of the city.

She was finding that for long stays, she preferred the country, or at least a city somewhat smaller than London. It wasn't just the sanitation that was getting to her, though it was a big part of her displeasure at present. She was also missing her friends. Philippa was nice enough, she supposed, graciously spending what time she had free with her guest, but they were far from becoming fast friends. Philippa had grown up in a slightly different setting than Jocelyn and she knew many people at court.

If Jocelyn had desired to find influential acquaintances, here was her opportunity to do so. Philippa had offered several times to have Jocelyn presented formally at court, but Jocelyn was hesitant to do so without Will at her side. He should be with her for any introduction, she decided. It wasn't right to go when he could not benefit personally.

She sighed, shutting the window and closing the latch, then sinking into the chair nearby. The Chaucer household was a joy in that she could spend as much time reading as she desired and letter writing was taking on a new art form for her. She'd never realized how passionate and detailed her letters could become. They were almost like mini stories now, with bits of conversations placed down onto the paper to punctuate her points and illustrate the events.

Jocelyn was bored. It was time to admit that she was honest-to-God bored out of her skull. Having Christiana about had made her days go so much faster. They'd spend their time laughing and talking and singing and playing the lute and harp rather horribly. They'd amused themselves.

Christiana was gone though, and Jocelyn wondered if her maid had found her way safely into the Adhemar household. Had she found Kate there or was Kate still traveling with Germaine? For that matter, had Kate and Germaine found favor in each other's eyes?

She was beginning to understand Geoffrey's obsession with observing the world around him. Quiet observation of detail usually managed to relieve some of her boredom. She'd become quite good at identifying the pickpockets in the streets. Not that she went out much. One never knew when someone in an upper level would tip out a chamber pot without giving a loud enough warning.

Ahh, city life.

She could not go shopping, for she didn't have the extra money to do so. She didn't really feel like entering the merchant buildings, though Philippa had coaxed her out on a few occasions. On those outings, Philippa never spent any more coin than Jocelyn did. Whether this was to make Jocelyn feel better or simply a natural prudence with coin, Jocelyn didn't know. She suspected something of both. Philippa had been remarkably adept at sensing Jocelyn's moods and adjusting her behavior and conversation accordingly.

Jocelyn picked up the book that Philippa had loaned her, but didn't look at the pages she opened it to. Geoffrey had gone before Jocelyn even arrived at the house. Apparently, he had a rather important position that meant he traveled quite a bit. During the past year, he'd taken a 'break'. He'd decided he needed to rest from his duties and been given leave to pursue life at leisure for a certain number of months before he'd needed to be back at work.

She still had a bone to pick with him about his view on Kate's situation, but it was looking as though she'd have to wait on that for awhile. It occurred to her that she might never get the chance to speak with him on it again. If his travels were as constant as Philippa confided they were....

She wondered again if Kate was well and fervently hoped the woman was safe somewhere. She'd not known Kate long, but she'd liked her from what she knew of her. Strong women needed to keep a fellowship together, for there weren't as many strong women in the world as Jocelyn thought there should be. Too many women simply accepted their lot in life. They let their family and society tell them what they could be. How could anyone be who God intended them to be if they didn't challenge themselves?

She considered herself strong only in that she'd held on to love as it appeared to be snatched from her grasp. She'd vowed that losing Will, if it came to that, would not break her. She'd hold him safe in her heart for all eternity. Luckily, fate had smiled, giving Will first the way to joust legally and then the victory.

Will was gone from her again and she kept him close to her heart every day. They'd not hesitated to agree with Kit Guin's plan. Wat had grumbled a bit, but chosen to go with Will. How long would they be gone? Jocelyn didn't know. This war Kit proposed could go on for months.

Jocelyn decided to begin her search for a residence. She'd send inquiries all about to everyone she knew and hopefully, she would find something they could afford. She'd begin writing the letters tomorrow.

* * *

Alain Adhemar rode his lands, noting with a sure eye those things that needed work before winter came in full upon the land. Periodically, he would stop and inform the estate steward, who rode beside him, of the changes. He'd already discussed household changes with the domestic steward and been to see the chaplain. He'd given permission for the almoner to distribute a bit more coin to the poor, something that he did every year. He'd also decided that his daughters did not need Christiana as a supplemental nurse.

But what to do with that woman? He'd wondered why none of Thatcher's group had come forward after Kate and Christiana's arrival was no real surprise. He'd expected Thatcher himself to come, but supposed Christiana's appointment in his stead was a well thought out plan. It showed a familiarity with the Adhemar family, that knowledge of his mother's needs, and the ability to form a plan of action. Grudgingly, he allowed that Thatcher was not a simple brainless peasant. He'd executed a military maneuver, even if it was transparent. The man was learning.

It also showed him that his sister was still much disgruntled with him.

Oh, her letter had been affable enough, writing about a softening of her feelings on his actions and how she was coming somewhat closer to forgiving him for destroying her life. He snorted softly. Destroying her life. How had he destroyed it exactly? He'd wed her to the one man who'd made a serious offer for her. Vachel was a loyal man, fairly wealthy and willing to lend his family resources to the Adhemar's whenever required. That made him a prime catch.

Elizabeth had prattled on about love, however. She wanted to marry for love. The rest of her brothers and sisters had married for duty, so couldn't she marry for love? He'd asked her who she had in mind to profess to love, but she'd not had any prospects, admitting that she didn't feel the emotion for anyone in particular. Therefore, he'd decided her outburst was nothing to be concerned with. She simply hadn't become used to the idea of marrying yet and would fall in line accordingly when the day came. She'd do her duty like they all did.

Wrong.

Alain had never thought his little sister would come at him with a knife, intent upon slitting his throat. She had though, subdued by Germaine.

He stared off into the distance. Where was Germaine at that? No word had come of his whereabouts. With Elizabeth still angry, he'd suspected Germaine would head there. Birds of a feather and all that, but the men who'd brought Christiana denied it, claiming they'd not seen him since the wedding. There was no other familiar place for him to go to. Had the man really set out on his own and successfully eluded the reach of Adhemar influence? He supposed it was possible.

The cottages to the east caught his attention and he guided his mount towards them. The roofs needed work before the winter and the fence holding the livestock was rickety at best. A mention was given to the steward and they rode on.

His mind returned to Christiana. It was likely that if he sent her away, one of Thatcher's other acquaintances would come on the pretext of looking for employ, so why not give the woman a position. Where would be best though? The manor was quite capably filled already with servants who knew their jobs and were good at them. Perhaps he'd hire her to companion Kate.

Alain's lips twitched with the idea. Yes, he'd announce his decision the same morning the artist came to paint Kate's portrait. Then she could grumble to Christiana about all the ridiculous things he'd done so far, including hiring a companion for her.

The afternoon went as planned and he returned to find the manor a flurry of activity, with Kate at the center of it.

He followed the trail of people up the stairs and to his mother's chambers, where he caught a glimpse of blood soaked linen before Kate was pushing him from the room. Alarm twisted along his spine, snaking up it to coil about his tightening throat. "Mother!"

Kate took a stance before the door, ordering those who watched to leave the hallway. "Go about your duties, all of you." She braced herself in the doorway. "There is nothing you can do, Alain."

"There has to be," he gasped, craning his neck to see in the room around Kate. He could easily move her, but was afraid to go in and see fully what had happened. "Tell me. Is she --"

"Alive, but very ill." Slowly, Kate relaxed, stretching a hand up to turn his face to her. "Look at me."

"Mother --"

"Look at _me_." Kate's eyes were wide, her words measured. "She's been poisoned. Christiana and I came with your house physician to visit with her and found Helene holding a vial of poison. She claimed she found it on the table by the wine, but we watched her try and hide it in her skirts. Lady Isobelle was vomiting blood and it looks like she had been for awhile."

A sound oddly like a whimper left his throat. "Is she..." he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Her illness for these past months is now coming to light. The symptoms are of gradual poisoning, but without knowing which herb was used --"

"Where is Helene?"

"I had two of your men guard her in her chamber."

Without another word, he strode to that room, flung open the door and went straight to Helene. She didn't even try to justify herself, for which he was glad. If she'd spoken at all, he'd have lost the tenuous control he had over his temper and beat her to a pulp. Gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache, he motioned for his men to bring her and follow him.

Kate watched from the doorway of Isobelle's room. "What are you doing?"

"Attempted murder is punishable by the lash in this household." Behind him, he heard Helene begin to cry, her voice pleading with him not to have her whipped. He drew in a hard breath.

She made no protestation over Helene's fate, just nodded. "Don't let your anger get in the way of just punishment, Alain. Don't kill her."

"It's my house, Kate, and my mother's life." With exaggerated care, he pushed her into Lady Isobelle's chamber and closed the door in her face. Then, without further pauses, he led the two guards and Helene out into the courtyard. He called for restraints, then the whip, instructing one man on the number of lashes. Alain detached himself from the situation, looking out the front gate at the horizon as the sounds of the lash striking flesh filled his ears.

Rain clouds, purple and swollen, gathered in the sky.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Eighteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

It was an errand of mercy Kate decided upon, watching the whipping of Helene from the windows of the master's chambers. She could understand the need for punishment for such a serious offense. Without punishment for crimes, there would be chaos, more and more crimes committed. Leniency had no place here if the master of the household wished to keep control over those who served him.

However, the man wielding the whip was extremely energetic in his duty. One might say he was being gleeful there. Alain was not watching. He had turned his face away and was staring at the storm that was coming towards the manor.

Helene began to scream and Kate turned away, unwilling to watch that lash fall on the woman's back one more time. As much as she disliked Helene, she couldn't let her remain in agony if there was a way to help. Even the most wretched needed care at times and Helene would need someone to tend her back until it healed. It wasn't likely anyone else would step forward for the task.

The woman was universally disliked, mostly for her attitude towards others. The rest of the household, save Isobelle -- who had never mentioned one bad word about Helene -- poked fun at her behind her back. Even Alain had done so on occasion, making comment about moon-eyes females and blinding devotion.

Going into the hall, Kate made her way to Helene's chamber and threw the door open wide. Hurriedly, she turned down the bed sheets and filled a basin with water. Clean linens were fetched and she was setting both basin and linens on a small table near the bed when Christiana peered into the room.

"There you are, Kate," she said, bringing a small pouch and bowl to the table. "You've the same idea as I."

"You should stay with Lady Isobelle. I won't need help here."

Christiana opened the pouch, poured a small amount of herbs into the bowl she'd brought. "I'll assist. I begged some herbs from the physician to make a poultice for the marks. What's his name, by the way?"

Kate watched the woman make the poultice, her hands efficient, as though practiced in such things. "Timothy. His name's Timothy."

"Ahh."

Helene was brought in, limp in the grasp of two men. Alain followed, stopping upon seeing Kate and Christiana there waiting. He stared at them for a long moment, gaze hard and cool.

"What are you doing here, the both of you?"

"Isn't it obvious," Kate said, motioning to the table.

He took note of the things there, shrugged as though unconcerned. "Let someone else do it. You're no nursemaid. "

"There is no one willing." The first linen was placed in the slightly warmed water, then wrung out. Kate glanced at Helene's back. Blood streaked the pale skin. "It won't take long." She began her task, carefully washing the blood from the wounds, wincing at one particularly deep lash mark. "Your man performed his duty admirably, Alain. She'll be scarred well for life. Somehow, I doubt she'll forget her crime."

He came to the bedside. "Helene tried to murder my mother. I'll not let her forget that ever. As soon as she recovers, she'll be sent back to her father. What happens to her after that is not my concern."

Kate glanced up at him. She had yet managed to catch him looking at Helene since he'd ordered her whipped. Was he trying to keep from seeing what had been done? Was he dismissing the woman from his mind? The latter, Kate suspected. With her actions, Helene had become dead to him. She no longer existed for him on a personal level. Now, she was just a body that was bothersome. Will I, one day, be dismissed so quickly?

He went on, and her suspicions were confirmed. "Once you're done, have another take over changing the bandages and the like. Your duties and interests should not lie with this inconsequential female. I'd rather you sit with my mother. She means far more to me." Turning on his heel, he left, the two men following him.

Christiana took the stained cloth from Kate's hand and handed her a fresh one. "Harsh man."

"He has to be." Her regard moved from the wounds on Helen's back to Christiana's face. "He does little without a reason, I've found. Sometimes those reasons are wholly selfish, but whim does not govern him. He followed me for a reason. He is letting me practice my trade for a reason."

"He placed you in those chambers for a reason."

Kate sighed in mild exasperation. Christiana seemed to have decided that Count Adhemar's plans for Kate were greater than making her his mistress. "I doubt I mean any more to him than an entrancing bedmate, Christiana. Please don't read more into what's there."

Helene began to stir, making moans of pain in the back of her throat. Her head lifted on the pillow, turned towards them. Slowly, her eyes opened. Focusing seemed to take an effort and Helene blinked confusedly. "Kate?"

"Shh." She flipped the un-bloodied end of the cloth up and wiped it along Helene's face. "Be still. We've cleaned most of the marks, but they still need --"

"Get from me, witch!" Helene hissed, struggling to slide from Kate's touch.

Witch? There was that word again. Kate blinked, drawing back her hand. "Helene --"

"I'll not tolerate the touch of a witch upon my skin. You've enchanted them all and I'll not number among them."

Within her gaze was something more than a fever and Kate set the cloth upon the table. Without looking at Christiana, she stepped from the bed. "Very well. I was willing to tend you when no one else would, Helene. You can sit here and let your wounds fester for all I care." She left the chamber.

Christiana didn't follow and she assumed the woman had taken over where she left off. Kate began to walk, furious energy adding haste to her steps. Did Helene even know what hysteria the word 'witch' could cause? Probably. She was likely counting on it. By branding Kate a witch, she could find allies in the superstitious. If she gained enough support, Kate could be killed by a mob and Alain could do nothing about it.

Her steps took her to the back of the manor, past the garden and to the bit of land beyond. Kate stopped. A man was there, practicing with the sword and she recognized him as Fawkes. He paused in his labors. "Exciting, eh, Kate?" He came towards her, sheathing the sword as he did so. "Helene always gives some excitement on a dry, boring day."

Thunder rumbled in the dark clouds overhead. "Dry? We'll likely have rain before the day is through."

"Careful in predicting the weather, girl, or Helene's proclamation will seem true." There was a twinkle in his eyes and a smile upon his lips.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm no witch, Fawkes."

He chuckled. "And all know it, Kate. I'd not worry about Helene's notions."

"Has she told everyone she thinks I'm a witch, then?" She crossed her arms against the chill breeze that whipped at her skirts.

"Most." They began walking back towards the manor. "Few listen to her prattle anymore. My lord made a mistake in being gentle with that one. He gave her false ideas and did nothing to dispel them." He glanced askance at her. "Of course, it's not my place to make such a judgment."

"But you'll make it anyway and shout it out at him in practice sessions just to get his back up."

"It's an art form. It takes a delicate balance to rile him, yet not make him so angry as to get yourself disciplined. He knows I mean him no malice." He opened the door, motioned her inside the manor. "But then, you know about keeping him on edge, don't you?"

"Sorry?" Kate paused, staring up at the tall swords master.

"You heard me." Fawkes shrugged. "You play him better than Helene ever did. He knows you're toying with him and enjoys every second of it, like you enjoy his game."

Though she searched his gaze, there was nothing censorious in those green orbs. "I don't..." She trailed off. There still was a game between herself and Alain, one with new rules, so she couldn't honestly deny what Fawkes stated.

He raised a brow at her. "Don't protest too much. It only feeds speculation, my dear girl. I think it's marvelous. My lord has finally met a woman worth something more than a quick toss. Depth of character has been at an exceeding loss in his previous choices." He left her by the door, pondering his words.

* * *

With her wounds cleaned and tended, Helene was left alone. A moment of clarity descended upon her and she thought on her own actions with a faint disgust. When had she become so desperate as to poison the one woman who'd been kind to her from the beginning? Lady Isobelle had never done one thing to wrong her, and yet she'd somehow reasoned killing her as a valid way to gain Alain's affections back from Kate.

Kate. She made a noise of frustration. She'd gone about it all wrong. Her plan of action had been flawed from the start. What she should have done was to befriend the woman, assure her no ill will, and _then_ begin the campaign to be rid of her. There was no going back now.

Helene could finally admit she'd been beaten. Literally. The stripes on her back were proof that Alain's affections would never be hers again. Her only consolation was that Kate, while well liked, was not _completely_ liked in the household. Alain's actions in both placing the woman in the best room and in granting her the blacksmith position -- plus a myriad other decisions on a daily basis -- had not endeared Kate to all. A harsh task master, Alain had seemed most lax in his discipline of Kate, and that rubbed quite a few wrong.

It was a small comfort, but one she'd have to enjoy.

She'd be leaving the household soon. Alain was sure to send her home now, instead of finding a match for her as he'd proposed. Helene didn't treasure any thoughts of home. Her father had been hopeful of gaining Adhemar influence and money to support his slackening business and since Helene had been unsuccessful in keeping Alain as her own, he was going to be rather put out with her.

Most unfortunate.

She'd have to catch another nobleman.

Helene's mind dismissed Alain Adhemar, filed Kate as unfinished business and turned to thoughts of planning her next conquest.

* * *

The lady Isobelle did not recover quickly.

For over a month, she languished in her bed, the physician standing over her and Kate sitting at her bedside. In moments of waking fever, she often called Kate 'dear daughter' and gripped her hand so hard that Kate was unable to grasp her tools to work in the mornings. In the evenings, Alain would come into the chamber and sit on the floor, his back against Kate's legs as he read aloud. He refused to acknowledge that his mother might still depart for death's domain, claiming that she looked better by the day.

With Alain refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation, letters were written by the household steward at Kate's urging and sent to the Adhemar family. The family descended upon the manor en masse. Word of the family matriarch's distress spread quickly and soon the house was filled with guests. Taking the role Helene had much coveted, Kate worked with the steward to house them all.

Alain was unmoved by the appearance of his siblings and cousins, still shutting them all out of Isobelle's chamber in evenings, only Kate sitting there with him.

Noticeably absent, according to all, was the youngest, Elizabeth. No return letter had arrived and the messenger did not return.

* * *

Kit's brother gave the men a merry chase. The initial confrontation had not occurred as either Will or Kit expected. The mistake, Will later realized, was in assuming that none of Kit's men were as ambitious as Kit's brother. At first, the plan had gone well. The army settled on a hilltop for the night, sheltered by trees, and a few scouts had ridden ahead to check the position of the enemy army. Their return was not a joyful one filled with tales of small numbers. No, they returned with grave countenances, describing the number of men with discouraged tones. Kit's brother had over twice their numbers.

That night, several men defected to enemy ranks.

By morning, the adversary had gone, quick marching back the way they'd come. They did not try to meet up with Kit's men and soon, the forces spent their time in a cat and mouse game that benefited neither in time or energies.

Will stepped from the tent that had been erected and strode to where Kit stood beside a table. The man was staring at a map, his expression angry.

"He's heading for home. We're going the long way about, but we're definitely going that direction. I'm certain he plans to harm Bess. Those men will have informed him of my motivations by now. Hurt Bess and he can be assured I'll act rashly, whether I plan on it or not. Seeing her broken body would set me off, Will." He swallowed hard. "I hadn't thought he would garner so much support among Adhemar's own troops."

There was little Will could say in comfort. He'd been gone from Jocelyn for weeks now and it had been five months since Kate had fled from Adhemar, time marching on quickly. He feared very much that they'd be engaged in this fight many months. "We should press on then, try to circle around them and cut them off."

"He'd only return back this way." Kit rolled the map in jerks. "I know my brother well. He'd have no qualms about engaging half his forces against us and bringing the other half back this way. We've not enough men to split in two."

Will thought for a long moment, turning his gaze to where Wat was wrestling under cheers with another man. Wat was the victor after long moments. His victory came only because his opponent lost his balance. The other man was of heavier and stockier build than Wat's own wiry form. Will crossed his arms, the glimmer of an idea forming in the back of his mind. It was building and he tried not to force it to come to fruition. Better to let the idea surface on its own. Gradually, a plan formed.

Kit was still lamenting the greater tactician that was his older brother, his tones becoming more strident as he went on, settling into over-dramatic speculations for the future.

"You say he is, without a doubt, returning home?"

"What? Yes. Home."

Will continued on. "Then I say we make him lose his balance. You and I will ride ahead for that home, circling around and taking no unnecessary time to rest. We reach there before he does. We speak to your Bess, inform her of what will occur and wait for him to come inside. While we are there, a trusted man here will lead the others into battle. Your brother will not know that you and I have gone ahead."

The desperation and despair faded from Kit's eyes and he stared at Will, a smile growing on his lips. "My friend, you have a deviousness to you that is greatly appreciated. We'll set out at once."

The course was set. And so time continues on, Will thought. God help him if they were both wrong.

* * *

Roland had found, as the weeks went on, that Christiana was correct. Lady Elizabeth was a sweet woman and very lonely. She spent much time with Germaine during the day and seemed to have adopted him as her personal guard. It wasn't lost on Roland that Germaine was taken with her. He wondered just how long the herald had nursed feelings for the young noblewoman. Unfortunately, those feelings could never be revealed. First of all, she was married and secondly, if Adhemar were to find Germaine here there would be hell to pay.

He swung the axe, careful to keep his balance as he chopped firewood. Lady Elizabeth had given him the softest of tasks she could dream up, nothing that was too strenuous and he was much improved in health. She'd been interested in his skill with a needle, asking that he make some samples of his needlework for her to study. Roland did so without question. It was much on his mind that he owed the lady a great debt. She hadn't had to take him into her home and have him cared for. It would have been just as easy for her to leave him there in the road.

She'd graciously cared for them all.

Roland wondered how Christiana was faring. There had been no letter from her. The lady said to be patient and give Christiana time, but Roland was impatient. He loved Christiana with all of his heart, so how could he be patient when her welfare was at stake?

The sound of riders in the distance caught his attention and he paused in his labors, glancing about. Of the guards behind him at the entrance, only one was giving the sound any interest. Winter wind sent chills along his back and he tightened his coat, still gazing at the road. Soon, the sound grew louder and three riders appeared. They seemed to be riding as though the devil was at their backs. Urgency was in their manner. Roland began to limp towards the gate, curious to see what was going on. Lady Elizabeth had been concerned for her mother for quite some time, mentioning that the lady had been very ill. Perhaps these riders meant that very thing had happened. He was nearly to the gate, when first one, then another of the riders stopped. The third continued on through the gate.

A familiar voice called out to him. "Roland? Is that you?"

He looked up. His astonishment at seeing two friends could not have been greater. "Will? Wat? What are you two doing here?"

They dismounted, stepping to him.

Will grasped his arms with a grin. "It's good to see you again, Roland. I've worried...." He sobered, endeavoring to answer the question placed. "It's a long story and has much to do with the Lady Bess."

"Elizabeth," Roland corrected, returning the hug of greeting that Wat gave him. "Her name is Elizabeth."

"Why are you _here_, Roland?"

"An equally long story. Suffice it to say that I met up with Germaine and Christiana and now Christiana's gone to Adhemar's after Kate while I'm here at his sister's." Both men went quiet. "What?"

"Lady Bess is Lady Elizabeth, Adhemar's _sister_?" Will exchanged a glance with Wat. "We'd better catch up with Kit," he said. "I think he's left a few things out of his story."

In deference to Roland's limp, the three walked slowly towards the manor.

* * *

Elizabeth was not happy to see Kit come through her door. It was bad enough to know that they could never be more than brother and sister by marriage without him bursting in whenever he pleased. Her heart could not take it and, given Vachel's often prolonged absences, she thought it best not to tempt fate with Kit's presence. She did not want to yield and find her husband beating her over carrying his brother's child. Best that Kit stayed away and the opportunity to stray from her vows did not ever occur.

It had become obvious, directly after her marriage to Vachel, that Kit adored her. She'd not once outwardly encouraged Kit. It wasn't the proper thing to do and her family had instilled within her a sense of what was proper, even if she sometimes ignored it.

Elizabeth met him in the center of the great hall, trying to disregard the thrill of pleasure she felt upon seeing him again. "Kit. What a surprise. We weren't expecting you."

He made a furious motion at the three men coming through the hall door. One was Roland she saw and the other two were unfamiliar. "Come on, Will! Wat! We've no time to waste!"

"No time?" Elizabeth raised her brows. Kit had lathered himself thoroughly in whatever situation was at hand, practically dancing as he watched the men come towards them. Introductions were given, Elizabeth giving a tiny smile at the name of 'Thatcher'. "You're not by chance the infamous William Thatcher," she asked sweetly.

"I should hope I'm not infamous," he replied, giving her a courtly bow.

"I can see why my brother hated you." Her attention returned to Kit. "What's this about? I take it you're not here on a casual visit."

Her hands were clasped in his. "Vachel is going after your brother. He plans to kill him and take over the manor."

She cast a confused glance at Sir Will and Wat. "If he's going there, then why are you here?"

His blue gaze held hers, a bit of sadness in those depths. "We're found out, Bess. Vachel knows I want you."

She snatched her hands away, taking a step back. Her heart was a painful thudding. "How? Surely you didn't --"

"Tell him? Do I look mad? I'd never tell Vachel I wanted anything. He always finds some way to destroy it. It was bad enough that he suspected I was pleased by the idea of you when Alain inquired of our family."

"We came here to head him off," Sir Will offered in explanation of her original question. "He was moving towards Count Adhemar's home, but shifted direction this way. We had several men defect to his army."

Elizabeth sat in the nearest chair, rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her hair fell as a curtain about her face. "He'll beat me half to death or worse. If he plans to kill Alain, then he won't hesitate to dispose of me."

"What of your other brothers," Roland asked. "Won't they make a fuss?"

She shook her head. "Alain always cared more for me than any of them, though I do love them all."

From the shadows came Germaine's voice. "You're wrong, my lady. You were most treasured by each of them."

Sitting up, she gave him a nod of thanks, then an apologetic smile. "Treasure fades when put away for a long time, Germaine, and they put me away with Vachel for far too long. All he would have to do is proclaim adultery on my count and I'd be struck from the family list."

Elizabeth turned her face to the fire and listened to the men speak around her without saying another word.

* * *

Lady Bess....Elizabeth, Will corrected to himself with pursed lips, was not what he had been expecting. She was most certainly an Adhemar; her looks bore that out. She shared the same eyes and the same turn of the mouth as her brother. Will found their situation even funnier with this turn. How amusing that the woman Kit wanted to free from his abusive brother was Adhemar's sister!

If the situation wasn't quite so serious, he'd laugh about it. Will had given his word that he'd protect Lady Bess from danger, so if he managed to, Adhemar would be indebted to him for it. Of course, Wat hadn't found it quite as humorous as he did, grumbling to Roland that Adhemar would gut them all if they managed to get his sister killed. And, that was truth also. Adhemar would seek revenge for any weakness that touched a family member of his. He was a proud man and demanding in his standards. 'Twas one reason Will thought he'd been so angry at finding Will was not nobility. Pride. His pride demanded propriety in certain areas, anything having to do with nobility being one of them.

If that was so though, then why had he pursued Kate? Wouldn't his pride get in the way of anything more than a few tosses in the night?

Germaine had told Will and Wat his tale and of his conversations with Kate. He'd made much over his regret that he'd not been able to wake Kate in time to take her with him. Wat had gotten in a punch at that, but when the herald hadn't defended himself, seeming to think the hit was his due, Wat had stopped himself, giving the man a look of disgust.

Will went to the window and looked out towards the road. Vachel's army could not be far behind them and if everything went as planned, then they'd be making haste along the way so as to not be caught in battle. Vachel would walk in, planning to barricade himself in the home and pick off Kit's forces by using the defensive walls. As he watched, there came a light, then another and another, until torches had been lit all along the road leading to the manor.

He was right. The enemy was close at hand.

Taking up his sword, Will headed for the great hall.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Nineteen

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: Thank you for the lovely reviews. I greatly appreciate them all.

* * *

It was anti-climactic in Will's mind when the battle expected did not commence. The enemy came to the door all right, but it was not the huge force they had planned for. Vachel arrived at the home with only a small number of soldiers with him. He'd burst through the door and headed straight for Lady Elizabeth, who'd stood waiting for him by the fire. The plan was to let him come into the room all the way and then engage him. Kit had grudgingly agreed that everything was to appear as normal, so Vachel would not suspect anything. Unfortunately, that carefulness to detail nearly cost the lady her life. Vachel's hands had gone about her throat and only Germaine had been close enough to sink a dagger in the man's back to keep her alive.

She'd stumbled away, coughing and wheezing and watching impassively as her husband died cursing her for loving his brother. Germaine had reached for her, only to draw back when Kit rushed forward and enfolded Elizabeth in his arms. Will wondered at the expression on Germaine's face. The herald had given Kit a look of pain and the lady a one of longing.

He strolled to the doorway and looked out into the courtyard. Kit and Elizabeth were there together. She was standing by as Kit talked with the men that Vachel had brought with him. They were mercenaries. The worst of the lot that Adhemar employed, only out for money. They'd no loyalty to anyone in particular and when Kit had offered them a few more coins in exchange for turning about and leaving, they'd shrugged and held out their hands for payment. Vachel's death was of no concern to them.

The mystery of the nickname 'Bess' was solved. Kit was the only one allowed to call her that. Apparently, when she'd first arrived at the manor, he'd mentioned that he thought of her as a Bess rather than an Elizabeth, declaring her proper name too formal.

"Those men know me," came a low voice behind him.

Will glanced over his shoulder. Germaine had come up behind him and stared outside.

"They saw me well, too. My lord Adhemar will know soon that I've been here."

"You're leaving then?"

"Not that I want to." Germaine shook his head. "There's nothing left for me here. I should quit this family once and for all, but somehow I am pulled back to them again and again. Perhaps my lot is not to be free."

"Or perhaps you're simply not used to the idea of freedom."

They walked about the great hall companionably, stopping before the table still left up from the afternoon meal. Germaine filled a glass with wine and sank into a chair. "What is freedom like, Sir Will? You've done admirably well."

Will laughed, shrugging. "Honestly? This freedom is another brand of servitude, with rules I know little of."

The herald's eyes narrowed. "A cage of a different sort, yet still a cage."

"Yes. Exactly. I serve no other man but myself and my king, but the rules for living are far different. When Jocelyn and I find a house, we'll set up with a full staff and I'll be the head of the house. I've no notion how to do that, Germaine. I'll have to rely on Jocelyn for guidance." He also poured wine. Unlike Germaine, he drank his, setting the cup down with a thump. "It's going to be awhile yet before I see Jocelyn again. I've still got to retrieve Kate and see what sort of house Kit had in mind to give."

Germaine was silent for long moments. With the air of a man expecting to be given a refusal, he asked, "Would you permit me to go to London and inform your lady of the progress here?"

"You want to go to London?"

An expressive glance was tossed towards the doorway. "Better than to be here."

Will braced his hands upon the table top and stared hard at Germaine. "You _do_ love the Lady Elizabeth. I was not imagining it."

"I watched her grow up, Sir Will. I watched her be placed in circumstances that no gentle woman should be placed in. She is...highly esteemed in my eyes."

A grin pulled at his lips. "That wasn't a no." Germaine was adeptly avoiding the question.

"I have done what I can for her here. She will be happy with Kit Guin and I believe Count Adhemar will allow them to marry. Guin influence will still help the family in ways other families cannot."

"Meaning what exactly?" Curiosity pricked at him. This wasn't the first reference he'd heard of the Guin family influence.

Germaine licked his lips and sipped at his wine before answering. "Sir Will, did you not realize that you've made friends with one of the few families that is at peace with both England and France? The Guin family has influence at both courts. You, Sir Will, by befriending Kit Guin, have become one of the most politically well-connected men I know of. Luck is certainly yours." With a small smile, Germaine got up and went up the stairs, leaving Will to wonder how his fortunes managed to keep improving.

* * *

The Adhemar relations slowly left the house as Isobelle began to improve. A letter came from the youngest, explaining her absence. Vachel Guin had attempted to rile his household against Adhemar. When none would join him, he tried to kill Elizabeth. Kit Guin, the younger brother, had stepped in, killing Vachel and saving Elizabeth. He requested her hand in marriage -- putting the request in political reasons.

Alain stared at the letter from Kit Guin and then at Elizabeth's letter. It was not difficult for him to read between the lines, knowing his sister as he did. She'd fallen quite hard for Kit. He recalled that conversation he'd had with her on love. It was inevitable, he supposed. He could marry her to another, but then the influence his family had enjoyed would disappear. Kit was fully capable of withdrawing any favor his entire family had for the Adhemars. Right now, they needed all the favor they could get in one way or another.

He smelled more wars coming in the future, and not just the wars begun between lords, but rather ones that engulfed entire countries. Unrest was stirring once more between England and France.

Why not allow Elizabeth happiness? She'd had a difficult time with Vachel, he was sure. Vachel had not been the easiest of men in regards to treatment of women. The rest of Alain's siblings were thriving in their matches. There wasn't love, he didn't think, between any of them, but they all seemed to work well together with little strife. By letting Elizabeth marry Kit, he could still say he'd made the best match for her that he was able. Influence would remain, among other advantages Kit had pointed out.

Pulling out a clean parchment, he began to write.

'Dearest Elizabeth,

Our mother is greatly improved, due mostly, in my opinion, to the care of the maid you sent a few months back. She and a guest here --Mistress Kate -- have managed to keep mother entertained through even the worst of the illness. I fear six months will not be enough time for this maid to remain in my household. She has quite endeared herself to mother and to that one guest here. I should like you to consider giving the maid over into my employ for as long as Mistress Kate is in my home. The two get on reasonably well and spend much time together.

While I am sorry to hear of Vachel's death, I am not completely surprised at his attempt. He was always ambitious and I am pleased that Kit intervened. My thank you to all that aided him. I am greatly indebted to them for saving your life. Sister, you are dear to me, though you may not always believe so. In that vein, allow me to say that I have been thinking on something you once asked me and found I cannot deny your want. Nay, your need, for I see that you need the thing for which you asked.

Marry Kit Guin under my blessing, sister. I will be sending a letter to him within the week regarding terms.

Your loving brother,

Alain'

A fine layer of sand was sprinkled over the ink to dry it and the parchment was rolled and sealed, Alain pressing the crest of his ring into the wax. He called a messenger to him and gave him orders. Then, he went up and to the chamber that Helene had occupied. The woman was gone.

Her father had arrived within days of the letter Alain had sent him and she'd been carted off with her back still striped with healing welts. He'd come so quickly that Alain thought the merchant must have ridden the entire way to the manor without stopping. He'd been filled with apologies and curses for his daughter, fearfully asking how amends could be made. Obviously, he thought Count Adhemar was going to demand his business or some such thing in payment for the trouble, but Alain had no interest in seizing the man's business.

Of course, he wouldn't turn down the wagon full of goods that had been brought into the courtyard either. The merchant wanted to give them, so he'd accepted them and called it even as long as Helene did not make her way to this house again. If she did, she would be executed.

He'd given Kate and Christiana orders to make note of all in the wagon and inform his mother of the contents. Isobelle had first look, so to speak, of the items and could take what she liked. Then, he asked Kate what she preferred. As usual, her response startled him.

"I prefer to have nothing coming from a guilty conscience."

"A guilty conscience," he'd asked, resting his arm on the wagon side and regarding her with a frown. "Pray tell, Kate, who's conscience is guilty?"

"Helene's father's," she'd replied, turning an exquisitely carved cup over and over in her hands. "He feels guilty over her actions and hopes this will bribe you into not mentioning it to anyone." Her brows had raised. "Am I right, Alain?"

He'd had to nod at that. "Of course. I prefer to call it 'making amends' rather than a bribe however."

She'd waved a hand, setting the cup down. "You can call it what you like. I don't want anything out of this wagon."

Strolling to the end, Alain had opened up a small chest and reached inside, drawing up a string of gems. "Jewels don't interest you?"

"What use do I have of gems? They certainly wouldn't be an asset while I work."

"Then wear these in private." He'd draped the necklace across her shoulder. "For me."

Kate's hand had covered his warmly. "No." She's shaken her head. "I would not become used to wearing such fancy items."

Alain had reluctantly returned the necklace to the chest. He'd expected her to refuse the necklace for herself, but why refuse wearing it for him? "Why is that, Kate? I desire to see you wearing fancy things. You seem quite amenable to my desires these days."

"When you tire of me, I would not want to have a longing for luxury in my breast."

Tire of her? He'd frowned at that idea. He could not foresee becoming tired of her soon. Kate was still much a mystery to him in many ways and he'd found he enjoyed revealing the answers of her little by little. "I have no plans to tire of you, woman."

She'd given a low laugh, setting her hands upon her hips. "No man plans to become weary with a woman. Did you plan to turn Helene out when you brought her here to begin with?"

He'd slammed the trunk lid closed, glancing askance at her. "Of course not. However, I hardly think you likely to attempt murdering my mother."

"Probably not, but you have become tired of your other women before. Tell me, Alain, where are the mothers of Olivia, Lisette and Mary? Hmm? I do not see them in residence here. By that, I can only reason out that you sent them away."

His temper had begun to rise. Why was she picking a fight on this matter? The mothers were where each one wanted to be. He'd not made them leave the manor. The choice had been theirs entirely. "The children are mine. Their mothers were compensated handsomely for leaving them with me and should any of them choose to visit, they may. I've not told them they couldn't. If any of them had a burning desire to see the girls, then they could easily come here."

Kate had glanced away with a light scoffing noise. "Somehow I doubt that."

Picking up the cup she'd looked over, he'd glanced at it, then tossed it down. The beginnings of foul temper were rose up inside him. "Why are you on about this? Why do you still think on my releasing you?"

"Because someday you will. You'll look at me and wonder why you dragged me here in the first place --"

"Hardly likely. You're worth twenty of Helene at least and she was here for nearly four years. Going by that, I'll keep you here much longer."

"Helene for _four_ years. My point exactly, Alain. Your youngest girl is four in a few weeks. Helene was here while her mother carried her. You tossed that woman aside while she carried your child and brought Helene to fill her place."

Whirling, he'd grabbed her arm and tugged her with him away from those who might be listening. "Let me tell you something about Mary's mother. She was a maid with my sister Fleur and spent exactly one month in my bed while here on a visit. I found out about Mary only after she'd been born and had her sent here for a very good reason. Apparently, Gwen was not a maid only. She was a companion and already married to a man far too ancient and decrepit to perform his duties. The man threatened harm on Mary and I could not let a child of mine come to harm."

Kate had jerked her arm away. "It's good you've a soft spot for children at least," she muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He'd given a distracted glare at the throng of people staring at them. "Get back to work, all of you! You're not here to gawk!" When she didn't answer, his attention had returned to her. She had her head bowed and her arms crossed. "Kate?"

Her voice had come almost too softly to hear. "I'm pregnant." She'd looked up. There was no gentle emotion in her eyes, but rather anger. "Happy, Alain? Another child to show all about how very virile you are."

Without giving him time to reply, Kate had turned and stalked from him into the manor.

Pregnant. He'd kept staring at the door, willing her to come back out, but she hadn't. Kate was pregnant. He'd tested the idea in his mind -- kept testing it --, attempting to imagine Kate's trim figure filling out. The idea pleased him. It pleased him too well and Alain had begun walking. He'd not been so well pleased in a long while. What was it about this that sent glee coursing his veins?

Was it pleasure in his own virility, as Kate thought? He'd kept walking, ruminating upon the matter and not coming up with one real reason why the news was welcome. He'd walked aimlessly about the grounds, ignoring all about him until he ran full into someone. The figure had gone sprawling.

"Watch where you're going," the woman had said crossly. She then got to her feet and turned to face him.

Alain had almost laughed at the dread that filled Christiana's eyes upon seeing him.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she'd whispered, attempting to look as though it was her fault he'd pushed her over.

"I'll excuse you this time," he'd remarked dryly. The maid had been about to excuse herself, if that was what her indecisive expression had meant, when Alain wondered if Kate had confided in her. "Actually, Christiana, there is a matter I was wanting to speak with you on."

She was most helpful in her answers. Who knew the maid could be so helpful while still guarding Kate's secrets? Her answers had given some illumination on Kate's anger.

It seemed that Kate had spent quite a bit of time with his children recently and jumped to several wrong conclusions regarding them. She assumed that he'd abandoned each woman for a new lover when pregnancy was made known to him. How wrong that was!

His choice of women -- up to Kate -- had all been remarkably similar in character. None cared for the state of motherhood. As far as they were concerned, their own pleasures had been interrupted and both he and the child were to blame. Each had not hesitated to leave the child with him and run home.

Kate alone was different. She adored children. With his family here, he'd had occasion to watch her with the babies and come to his own conclusion. Kate would be a good mother. She'd be the sort to eschew a wet nurse unless her own milk did not come freely and she'd nurture her child with the last breath in her body.

If she was willing to stay and mother their child, then all the better.

He blinked. _If she was willing?_ That tiny word 'if' leapt forward. When had he begun to take her wishes into consideration? Alain frowned, endeavoring to remember when he'd begun thinking actively of her desires along with his. When had she become more than a conquest?

Going to the window, he looked out, thoughts -- as always anymore -- preoccupied with his Kate.

* * *

A burning desire to be by herself gripped Kate as she pushed through the door into the great hall. She'd given up the secret she'd kept since the Adhemar family had begun leaving the manor. She shouldn't be surprised by her state, not after the past three months. However, she found she was most unsettled by it.

There had been a sense of 'it won't happen to me' of the past weeks with Alain. It hadn't crossed her mind that she could conceive. After all, she'd not done so once with her husband and assumed she might not be able to have children.

What was Alain thinking, she wondered. Was he pleased with himself? Likely. It would suit his vanity to have her belly round. Would it also hasten her time here though?

She wiled away nearly an hour on the bed in the room that was still hers if she wanted it. Her thoughts kept crossing the same path they had for over a day. She had decided that to think on it was useless, when her door opened, Christiana rushing in to the room.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

The woman seemed to think that she'd found a bosom friend the same as Lady Jocelyn had been. That wasn't to say that Kate didn't enjoy their talks and the time they spent together. She did. It was only that Christiana never seemed to tire of inquiring if Kate was truly happy here.

"You told him." Christiana climbed onto the bed and gave her an expectant look.

"I didn't mean to. It just...came out."

"He seems very pleased by the news," she said carefully.

"Pleased." Kate snorted. "He's only pleased by news he's still fertile."

"Kate." Christiana faltered. "He's not like I remember," she blurted out. "He actually seems to care about you."

"That surprises you? That even the beast has feelings?" Kate sighed. "Everyone has feelings to some degree, Christiana. Even Alain Adhemar."

"Yes, it does surprise me. I don't recall him being particularly concerned about anyone but himself. I mean, he was pleasant to me when he gave me messages for Jocelyn, but there was always a coolness behind any pleasant tone and flirtations. I knew you shared an attraction, but I never thought he had _feelings_ behind it."

"People change." Kate fluffed the pillows and settled back against the luxurious softness. A calm descended upon her. "I've changed. Six months ago, I hated him with a passion, solely from what I'd seen in tournament. Yet now, after spending time with him, I find I'm most intrigued by who he really is as a man." She caught her lower lip with her teeth, worried it a moment before continuing. "I've given in on areas I swore I'd never surrender to him and realized that by doing so I've not compromised myself. I'm still my own person. No matter what happens between us. He does not rule me. I still yield only what I decide to yield."

The woman's expression was neutral, her voice thoughtful in tone. "You don't want to leave."

"Not now." It was an honest answer and the only one she had to give. She couldn't say that she'd want to leave in a month or that she'd never want to leave at all, for who could say what the future would bring? The time would come one day when Alain certainly must marry. Perhaps then, Kate would wish to leave. But not now.

Christiana nodded, getting up from the bed. Her thoughts had rapidly turned elsewhere and her next words were distracted. "I've a letter to write. I'll return later."

Kate watched her go and settled comfortably once more to brood about her situation.

* * *

"Dear Roland,

I am safe and well. The journey here was only what one could expect and upon arriving, I was disappointed to be found out in my task immediately. The Count maintained that Kate did not need rescuing and I was surprised to find the fact true. I was taken straight away to Kate, who by the way is working as his blacksmith. She re-iterated that statement over the course of that afternoon and claims contentment.

Sometime since Adhemar found her and my arrival here, she gave in to her attraction to him. Yes, you hear correctly from whoever you've asked to read this to you. Attraction. Kate has confessed that she's found him quite attractive for some time.

Now, for the biggest news I have to share. Kate is pregnant. This is a recent development since Lady Isobelle began down the road of recovery. Kate still claims contentment, though I see worry in her eyes since realizing her condition. Forgive me, Roland, but I cannot help think that perhaps we were wrong to come after her. She is a grown woman who more than knows her own mind and is fully capable of dealing with the twists and turns of her life. She did so before we met her did she not?

Therefore, I recommend that we forget the notion of rescuing her and let her deal with this as she sees fit. I will of course stay on as per the plan and shall return --'

Lady Elizabeth stopped reading. Will, Wat and Roland were arguing and hadn't heard a word beyond the fact that Kate was pregnant. They were going back and forth and all she could make sense of was that Roland should have stopped Kate in the first place. She crossed her legs and waited. In her experience with the three men, they'd go on like this for long minutes, then descend into silence, Roland calmly pulling the other two down into rationality.

As she waited, she thought on the past three weeks since Vachel's death. Alain had given her permission to marry Kit. In all of her wildest dreams, she'd never imagined Alain would agree. That spark of forgiveness she had for him was growing. Perhaps by the time she saw him again, she'd be able to call him brother without any bitter resentment welling up.

Kit insisted any rescue attempt for Kate wait until after he and Elizabeth married. He was afraid Alain would deny permission in a fit of rage if they rescued the woman now. Elizabeth didn't even have to think about the outcome in that event. Kit was right. Alain _would_ deny them his permission and possibly become vindictive about it. She'd said as much. Will, Wat and Roland had still wanted to rush over and rescue Kate, but had grudgingly agreed that they'd waited this long, surely Kate would be fine for another few weeks.

This letter from Christiana shed some more light on how another attempt would fare from Kate's point of view. A person who does not desire rescue will not cooperate. Kate didn't want rescue, that was the gist of what Christiana put so delicately. Christiana didn't need to stay there. Except....

Except Alain requested she stay. For _Mistress_ Kate. Her lips twitched with humor. How proper Alain tried to put things sometimes. If she'd not known the situation, she might think Kate was simply another guest at the manor and that he was being courteous.

She glanced at the rest of the letter. Christiana went on, going back over her opinion that Kate was taking on the challenge of Alain Adhemar in her usual manner and he was returning the interest. There were pleasantries, inquiries on if Roland had contacted Sir Will and Lady Jocelyn and if he was healing well.

Elizabeth was tempted to pen a letter to Alain asking about Mistress Kate, but decided she'd better not push her luck. If Alain knew she was privy to the entire tale, he'd be rather cross at her and the others. He might even deny her the pleasure of marrying Kit. Sometimes, it was a blessing to be able to predict how he'd react.

She cleared her throat. "This argument is getting you nowhere. There's no point in going over what who should have done when. You should go forward, not backward."

Will looked over his shoulder at her. "You're right, I suppose."

Roland crossed his arms, a dark frown on his brow. "I know I should have stopped her. No one keeps needing to point it out, _Wat_."

Wat rolled his eyes. "If you'd stopped her, she'd not be knocked up."

Elizabeth chuckled. "That doesn't necessarily follow. Your reasoning, I mean. Kate could easily have met someone else and been pregnant now anyway. She is pregnant and nothing will change that unless it's fate she lose the child. You really all need to hear the rest of this."

There was silence as she finished the letter and handed it to Roland to put with his things. Roland rolled it, his gaze on the floor.

Wat shook his head. "Kate can't want to stay there."

"Why not?" Elizabeth returned to her seat, fixing a cool stare on each of the men in turn. She was losing patience with hearing at every turn how her brother was detestable. "Alain has his faults, but so does every man. He's no angel, I know, but he's not a bad man."

"My lady, he tried to murder Will," Wat said coming and crouching down at her feet, looking up at her. "He was sneaky and underhanded and did nothing with the honor he should have had."

"It's how he was raised. You get what you want by taking it. Our father thought that way and he raised all my brothers to think that. My brother Timothy stole his bride from her intended a day before the ceremony, carted her off to Italy and stayed there until she was six months pregnant and her father gave permission for them to marry rather than have her returned disgraced."

Will stepped over to her, his kind gaze meeting hers. "I've not called your brother one name, Elizabeth." She'd found him to be a man as good and honorable as she'd ever care to meet.

"I know, Will and thank you. You've been most tactful. I realize Alain behaved abominably at tournament. He's always had a problem with competition in any area. He can't stand having an opponent that might beat him, so he goes further than he ever thought he would to win. Then, he can't stand having to apologize, so he doesn't. He shrugs it off and goes on with his life." She turned her attention to Wat. "He's my brother, Wat. Please use some tact from now on. I may not always like him, but I do love him."

Wat nodded, remaining at her feet.

She leaned forward, studying him. "It's not that I'm apologizing for him. I'm not. I only want you to understand him as a whole. Alain likes beautiful women, he always has and if he's noticed a beauty in this Kate, then he will treat her decently. Is it so inconceivable that she might develop some tender feeling for him?"

He shook his head. "I guess not. I just have a difficult time picturing Kate with the man I met at tournament. He was arrogant and smug and conniving and I don't think Kate would put up with that."

Elizabeth leaned back. "Perhaps you don't know her as well as you thought you did."

The three men glanced at one another and conversation veered quickly from Alain Adhemar and Kate to what plans had been made for the wedding of Elizabeth to Kit.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Twenty

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: 101 reviews! Whoo-hoo! Thank you to all who've reviewed. Your comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.

* * *

Dawn settled upon the Adhemar household, sliding into morning in slowly lightening degrees. Alain was awake, resting on his back and staring up at the canopy of his bed with a disgruntled expression. He'd not gotten much sleep the night before.

Kate would not budge from the other chambers. After nearly a week of keeping a cold manner towards him, she'd taken herself back into the chambers she'd been given on arrival.

He'd become so used to a warm and wholly willing woman that this turn towards detachment bothered him. It wasn't like her. She was far too upset over something he'd thought would not make her bat an eye. It wasn't as though he'd impregnated her without any help from her at all. She'd been just as enthusiastic as he, sometimes deliciously more so. She'd never once mentioned preventative measures. Of course, he was well aware such measures were chancy at best. Witness his three girls. Not one of them was planned, so to speak.

Alain sniffed loudly, scratching at his unshaven chin absent-mindedly. There was no way he could return to sleep. Old habits prevailed no matter what his exhaustion and he tossed the covers aside to get up. He could hear the manor stirring and paused at the window, waiting a moment for the soft pings in the air that indicated Kate was already up and busy with her work.

They didn't come. A frown tugged at his brow and he quickly finished his morning routine. Upon opening the door, he found Kate's door still shut. Surprise filled him. Kate was usually an early riser and it was not like her to lie abed unless ill. Was she suffering from morning sickness so terrible that she could not rise? Or worse, was she contemplating a rash action?

Alain was further surprised to find that she'd not barred the door. Somehow, he'd expected her to. As he entered, she rolled over in the bed so that her back was to him.

"Go away," she said, voice flat and unemotional, as though all feeling had been drawn from her.

"Are you unwell? Does your stomach roll with queasiness?"

She made no reply. Alain rolled his eyes in impatience.

"Have I judged you wrongly, Kate? All this time, were you just like them?" He'd thought her the sort who'd want children, yet she behaved as like the world was ending at the news.

"What?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just like who?" Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. It seemed she'd been crying.

"Does the thought of this child bother you? Hmm?" Little by little, he forced himself to pull back emotionally, to look at her as he had the other, but his control kept slipping, anger that she wasn't giving him answers -- _hadn't_ given any -- rising up inside him.

Kate sat, her hair a wild tangle about her shoulders. The shift slid down her left shoulder, baring it. "The consequences --"

He moved onto the bed, grabbing her face with rough hands. She turned and twisted, but he subdued her. "Consequences?" He leaned very close to her, held her gaze with his. There, in the depths of her eyes, was a spark of fear.

Fear of him?

Or fear of him guessing a plan to rid herself of the child and call it a miscarriage?

"Yes, consequences --"

His shaking fingertips covered her lips, stopped her from saying whatever she'd been about to say. "You'll not have a chance to harm the babe."

Her eyes went wide, head shaking in denial. The seed of doubt was planted in his mind and even that denial seemed unreal. He wanted this child she carried and was not going to let anything happen to it.

Alain adored his children. He enjoyed spending time with his girls; talking, joking and teasing. There was such innocence in a child, before they realized the harshness of life and the treachery of others. He'd thought Kate was different. Indeed, there was still a chance that this doubt of her beating about his brain in feverish circles was only a figment of imagination. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to take that chance. He'd take chances on many other things, but not that.

"I wouldn't --"

Again, he covered her lips. "Sshhh."

Alain dragged her from the bed, carried her into his chambers and set her on his bed. She did not struggle. It didn't occur to him to wonder why. "I won't chain you naked in here as you once suggested, but you are confined here until I am certain you'll not be...hasty." He stepped backward to the door. "I can't take a chance with this, Kate." She sputtered protests that he heard and did not fully register. The bar for the door was set outside the door. "I'll take this. Wouldn't want to have to break down the door later."

Alain stationed two men outside with strict orders that none but he go in and _she_ did not come out. Going below, he called for Christiana to be brought to him. He'd asked Elizabeth to let the maid stay. However, that was not set in stone.

* * *

Kate paced, rubbing her hands soothingly over her still flat belly. How could anyone jump to the conclusion that she would harm any child of hers at any stage in it's life? Kate adored children. Every chance she'd had recently to hold an infant in her arms she'd done so, a longing stirring deep within her for the pleasure of holding her own baby. Until now, she'd not had the joy of anticipating her own baby.

Well, not hers alone. Alain's child as well.

And while she was at it, joy wasn't exactly what she'd felt so far. Her feelings had been so confused since realizing her state, that she wasn't sure which way was up. The consequences kept rearing in her mind. There was no going back. Until now, she'd always had the choice of leaving when this affair was done. Now, it had become complicated to a great degree. Alain would never let this baby leave with her if she did leave. Not while he was around to stop her. Even if he tired of her and wished her to go, she'd not travel far. Kate didn't think she could leave her child as so many mothers did.

There was no going home.

Whether right or wrong, wise or foolish, her heart had grown fond of Alain Adhemar. He was selfish, contrary, explosive and cruel. But he was also generous when the mood struck him, loving towards family and protective of what he considered his.

He was hers, flaws and all. He was hers just as much as she'd become his.

Some of her confusion melted away. He obviously wanted the child. What puzzled her was his conclusion. She sighed, shaking her head. How could he watch her with his sister's children and his own and think that as truth? How? It made no sense.

Unless.... She paused. Yes, that had to be. One of the other women had tried to be rid of a baby and been caught just in time. What other reason was there? What else could send him into the panic he'd been in?

A cool panic, yet one just the same that he'd been trying to hide.

She stared at the fire burning cheerily in the hearth, chewing on a thumbnail. Perhaps she should have shared her feelings with him on this; let him know of her state of confusion. Then again, he'd have likely used it to his advantage and tried to manipulate her. Even now, after reaching an understanding, he still tried to manipulate her into doing what he wanted her to.

Kate sat in the nearby chair and let the warmth of the fire take the chill from her.

* * *

The maid Christiana responded quickly to the summons Alain sent and now stood waiting. He finished the letter he was working on, signed his name with flourish.

"Do you want to go home, Christiana? Do you wish to return to Lady Jocelyn's employ?" He raised his gaze to hers. "I'm sorry, I mean my _sister's_ employ?" A flicker of longing passed across her face, yet she didn't nod her head in eagerness. Instead, she gave a negative shake.

"No, my lord. I am content companioning Lady Isobelle and Kate." She clasped her hands together, looking very much the calm servant.

Alain stood, came around the table to her, circling as he had the day she'd arrived. "You can admit it, Christiana. I give you leave for honesty. You'll not be penalized for it."

She was silent a moment, then said with the tact he'd noticed in her long months earlier, "_My_ wishes my lord, mean little in employ. If you wish me to go, I shall do so. If you wish me to remain, then I shall. Lady Elizabeth sent me here and here I stay until you and she decide otherwise."

He considered her reply, what he'd expected her to say and crossed his arms. "I see. What if I tell you that you may go home, but only if you perform one tiny little task?" He kept up his slow steady pacing around her, a deliberate tactic to unnerve her if he could. There was curiosity in her eyes before she quickly lowered them.

"What task?"

"Discover Kate's intentions."

"My lord?"

"Does she intend to harm the child," he clarified. "The possibility of such an occurrence is on my mind with how she's carried on this past week. I can't ignore it. If she would, then I'd know about it before hand and deal accordingly with her."

Christiana turned her head to stare at him. "My lord, Kate would no more harm her child than she would herself. It's my understanding from speaking with her that it's not the child that bothers her, but rather the consequences --"

"What consequences are those?"

"I'm not privy to what she thinks of as consequences, only that they are what is weighing heavily upon her, not the child itself. Kate is pleased to be expecting a child, my lord."

"You know this for a certainty?"

"Yes." Her tone implied that he should know it as well. "Kate is not the sort to even think of such things in the first place. In the vein of honesty, my lord, I'd have thought that you, knowing her far better than I, would know that."

Ignoring the impertinence in her voice and noting that anger had lent a pretty color to her cheeks, Alain returned to his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Christiana, for that honest appraisal. You may go." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I'll have men ready to escort you to Elizabeth's directly after the noon meal."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she found her voice again. "My lord?"

"I did say you could go home if you performed that task, did I not?"

"Well yes --"

"Consider it performed. You may go home. I'll tender your regrets to my mother. I release you from any obligation you may feel you have here. Go to Elizabeth's with my blessing and then on to Lady Jocelyn's." He gave her a thin smile. "Please inform the lady and her husband that Kate is well and should she choose to have a letter penned to them, it will be sent straight away." He waved a hand at her. "That is all. Pack your things."

Should he believe the maid? A sly voice in the back of his mind told him not to, yet the rational and more dominant voice finally took over. Believe her. Talk with Kate and don't simply lock her away out of fear. She's not Marian to attempt to kill the child. You know that.

He sat for a long time thinking.

* * *

It felt as though she'd been hit over the head with a block of wood. Christiana sat, half packed, on the bed that was hers, wondering at this turn. Why had he suddenly decided to send her away? He'd seemed pleased recently with how she and his mother got on. He'd pushed her and Kate into spending time together.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. There was only one thing she could do: go. If he didn't want her here, then there was no way she could stay. A glance took in the tiny chamber that was hers. She only had a few things left to put in the trunk and then it would be time to go. Already, a man stood waiting in the hallway, ready to carry her trunk out to the small wagon that would take her away from this house. She could not keep him waiting.

Rising, she tossed the last of her belongings into the trunk, closed and locked it. She smoothed the sheets on her bed and motioned for the man to take the trunk. Stepping into the hall, she saw two more men coming towards her, waiting for her. They blocked the hallway towards Lady Isobelle's chamber. There'd be no saying goodbye to her, as Adhemar had said. At the door to the master's chamber's she paused, wanting desperately to speak with Kate one last time, yet no matter what she or Kate shouted, the guards there would not open the door.

Adhemar appeared at the bottom of the stairs, beckoning to her and Christiana found herself swept away from the door by her escorts. A pouch of money -- her wages -- was pressed into her hands and then she was in the courtyard, lifted into the wagon. She had a brief glimpse of Kate at the window before the wagon took her out of the manor walls and on towards home.

* * *

Christiana had gone and she'd not been given a chance to say a proper goodbye. Shouting at each other through a closed door did not constitute proper in Kate's mind, but it would have to do. The guards would not even open the door a crack, putting Kate thoroughly out of sorts with them.

With the scraps of her meal set by the door, Kate had watched from the window as six men escorted Christiana away from the manor. She wondered what had happened that Alain decided to send her away. Whim on his part or something more?

The door opened.

Speak of the devil, she thought, as Alain strode in.

"Explain your remark about consequences," he demanded in an imperious tone she had not heard from him in a long time. He expected an answer and was going to get one if he had to force it from her.

Her first instinct was to refuse. She quickly reconsidered that instinct. Refusal would send him into an even worse mood than he was already in. "There's no going back," she spat out. "Not now. Before, there was a chance that if I left here, I could go on as I had before. Now, that has changed. Even if you tell me to go, I'll stay as close as I can for this child." She made a noise of frustration. "How could you watch me with the children and assume me of such a character as to harm any child?"

He stared at her. After a long while, he nodded. "My children mean quite a bit to me, Kate. I won't apologize for being protective of the latest."

"Then apologize for your opinion of my character, for it is apparently less than flattering."

His lips compressed into a thin line, his nostrils flaring. The breath he took in was harsh, his eyes narrowing. For a second, she thought he was going to leave, but then he turned his gaze out the window and said through clenched teeth, " Kate, forgive me for my assumption."

"Apologize," she said quietly and firmly. Why test fate unless you took it all the way?

"That _is_ my apology."

"I want to hear you say that you're sorry."

A thunderous frown darkened his features. "Woman...."

"Say it." Kate crossed her arms, took six steps towards him so that their bodies nearly touched. "Or are you afraid to apologize to a peasant. A peasant and a woman at that." She deliberately taunted him.

He blinked, sneered. "I fear little, least of all _that_."

"Then tell me you're sorry. You can ask for forgiveness all you like, but it doesn't mean you're sorry."

"Saying I am doesn't mean it's true," he countered with petulant tone.

Standing up on her tiptoes, she looked in his eyes. "It's true, you just need to admit it."

He took a step back from her, crossed his arms. Noisily, he cleared his throat. "Kate. I am...sorry for thinking low of your character."

The apology was perfect. That is, until he snorted and rolled his eyes. "Happy now?" She fully expected him to stick out his tongue at her.

Oh well, she couldn't expect his childish streak to dissipate completely, could she? "Yes, Alain, I am happy. Now am I still confined here or must we have another wasted day because you're paranoid?"

He shrugged. "I suppose not."

The urge to slip her arms about him and draw him against her was strong. Kate found she wanted to soothe away the tensions she glimpsed on his face. She compromised with herself, putting a hand on his chest and pretending to straighten the edges of his coat. "I had thinking to do, Alain, and couldn't do it with you hovering over me."

"You were cold, Kate. Your words and manner were ice for a full week."

"I didn't mean to worry you. Truly." Kate leaned her head back to look in his eyes. A bit of the tension had slipped away, the lines of his face relaxing.

"I want you here, in this chamber with me and I'll not take a 'no' in answer. We made an agreement and I fully intend to hold you to it. You agreed to stay, to willingly remain here with me. I want no more talk of you leaving." His hands grasped her waist, squeezed lightly. "You're mine, Kate."

Stretching her hand up, she slipped it about his neck. He leaned down. The kiss she expected did not happen. Instead, his arms went about her and she was lifted high in his embrace.

* * *

Christiana's arrival, directly on the heels of the letter that requested her continued presence in the manor, caused a flurry of questions from all. Regrettably, she was in no shape to answer any questions. Her escorts had pressed her on at a breakneck pace, scarcely allowing time to rest and she was exhausted, nearly fainting from both it and hunger.

Lady Elizabeth took charge of her, ushering her up to Elizabeth's own chamber. She had a bath prepared then ordered a meal brought. Once Christiana had bathed, changed into a warm robe and eaten, Elizabeth took her to the tiny room Christiana had used weeks before. She waited until the woman drifted into an exhausted sleep before leaving to speak with the escorts.

Vexation took hold of her upon finding they'd unloaded Christiana's belongings, exchanged all the horses and gone without pause. She let out an un-lady-like curse. What the devil was Alain up to?

She sent the rest of the household to bed, firmly telling Christiana's friends that they'd just have to wait until morning to talk with Christiana. Wat gave her trouble about it, insisting they wake her up and find out what had happened. Will and Roland calmed him, Roland stationing himself outside Christiana's door. Elizabeth took pity on the man and gave him both a pillow and a couple blankets. She suspected he'd look in on Christiana several times at least.

"She settled?"

Elizabeth jumped. Kit had come up behind her. "Yes."

"I spoke with one of the men your brother sent while they switched out the horses." He put an arm about her shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "They all think Christiana was meddling in the arrangement, trying to convince Kate to leave and that's why she was sent away so quickly."

"She wrote that she thought --"

"I know. I'm only repeating what those men think. Knowing Alain, I think they're right. I think he decided it wouldn't be prudent to keep Christiana there any longer if she might influence Kate in a way he didn't want. He did write that she and Christiana had become friendly."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Kate defied Alain, Kit. She has a strong will from what Roland, Will and Wat tell me. I doubt anything Christiana would say would influence her." She considered the idea though. "I suppose Alain might not realize it however. He sometimes behaves irrationally --"

"Sometimes?" Kit squeezed her shoulder. "Alain has irrationality down to an art form in regards to his women."

She laughed. Her brother _did_ tend to focus on the woman of his desire with a single minded intent that caused his actions to seem irrational to those who did not know him. "Anyway, whatever the reason, she's here now and while I do enjoy her company, I think it would be best if she, Roland and the others return to their home."

There was silence as they walked, the couple stopping their stroll outside Elizabeth's chamber.

"I'm giving Will that house in the country just outside London. It's far enough away from the city to please Will and close enough still that should Lady Jocelyn have the urge to visit London shops, they'll not have to travel far. It's a small manor, but the fields are decent and should yield them a bit of good income."

"You're giving it freely? No monies exchanging hands?" How different Kit was from Vachel! Vachel would have demanded all of Will's money for the house.

He smiled gently down at her, fingers twining with hers. "I gave him a promise. I'll not break it. Besides," the smile became a roguish grin, "What other friend have I who has the ear of the Black Prince if he but whispers he might wish a conversation?"

"You also promised to save Kate, didn't you?"

He looked away, thoughtful. "Will has not mentioned it since the letter, though Wat and Roland still do." He returned his gaze to her. "I love you, Bess."

His kiss was everything Vachel's had never been. Consideration and tenderness colored it and Elizabeth nearly wept from the sweetness of the caress. Vachel had never once treated her with anything other than contempt, as though she was an inconsequential necessity.

Kit cherished her.

It was a new experience to have his concern rained upon her constantly and Elizabeth found that she adored Kit's manner even more. No longer were his attentions a candle flame in the bleak hours of her days, but rather he'd become her sun, shining blessed bright warmth into her life.

"Good night, my Bess. Until the morrow." With a last press of his lips to hers, Kit left and Elizabeth entered her chamber.

* * *

"I don't know." Roland shook his head. "Really. I've no idea what we should do this time." He held up a hand to stall Wat from speaking. "Before, it was plain that I had to follow Kate, but now I simply do not know what to do."

Will also shook his head. "Nor do I."

"We go after Kate," Wat said. "She's our friend and won't fault us for thinking she's in trouble. I won't accept the idea she's got feelings for _him_ until I hear it from her lips."

"True," Will agreed. "Kate would not fault us." He folded his arms on the table, leaning forward to rest his chin on them. "However, Kate would also chide us for believing she cannot take care of herself."

"Hmm." Roland scratched his chin. "Kate _is_ independent that way."

"Oh rot!" Wat slapped his hand on the tabletop. "Kate knows we care for her. She'll take that into account. I say we go ahead and rescue her, whether she wants us to or not."

There came from behind them the delicate clearing of a throat. Christiana, still in her robe and looking rested, joined them at the table, sitting on the bench in the seat that opened up between Will and Roland. Will was glad to see that the alarming dark hollows about her eyes the previous night were now only light shadows.

When greetings and warm welcomes had been exchanged, Christiana said, "You mean well, all of you, but leave Kate where she is."

Wat made a disgusted noise and she looked around Will at him. "Really Wat. Do you think I'd say that if I was not certain Kate was exactly where she wished to be? For God's sake, she'd having his baby and was not coerced into it! I saw them cuddle in the Great Hall, sneak kisses in the hallways. I saw a side of Count Adhemar I'd never thought existed. He has _feelings_. Can you imagine that, because I couldn't. I saw him as an unfeeling, scheming man, then discovered that I'd apparently been wrong. He feels and he even loves."

Will covered one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. "Of course he does." His matter-of-fact tone caused her to gape at him and he continued. "Roland and I've discussed this before. Even Wat and I've talked about it. Someone who can hate intensely, must feel other things with equal intensity. His manner never meant an absence of emotion Christiana, but rather tight control of an abundance of emotion." He indicated Wat. "Take Wat as an example."

The man rolled his eyes. "Does she have to?"

Roland took over the illustration. "Wat's emotional, yes?"

Christiana's expression indicated she thought that was too easy of a question. "Of course. Anyone who has ever met Wat knows he's an emotional man with a bit of a temper."

"Think of Adhemar the same way, then add the necessity for control in delicate warfare situations. He and Wat are alike in the regards of temper and emotion, except Wat doesn't hold it all in."

"Why we love him," Will quipped and was rewarded by a slightly less disgruntled look on Wat's face.

Christiana sighed. "Don't go after Kate. The count has promised she can send word if she chooses, so please wait. See if she does."

"Did he inform her of that," Wat asked. "Because, he can say what he likes. Actions always speak louder than words."

Christiana had no answer for that and the four sat in silence until the hall filled for the morning meal.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Twenty-one

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: The story is moving right along now. Only a few chapters left. Enjoy!

* * *

The weeks passed quickly and it was a shock for Kate to realize she'd been in Alain's company for nearly seven months. In that long, her life had changed considerably. She dressed and left the chamber, walking beside him.

It was Sunday, which found the entire Adhemar household in the chapel. Isobelle was up and about, joining them on the family benches. She was greatly recovered and had begun to put on some of the weight that had come off while Helene was poisoning her. She was no longer all bony angles, the gauntness slipping slowly and steadily from her features.

Kate was not allowed this time to stand with those of her station. No, Alain had clasped his hand firm about her wrist and tugged her to the family benches, forcing her to sit beside him. He wanted no arguments, tucking her there with his cloak about her shoulders to ward off the chill.

Treasured servants sat in the row behind the family, Fawkes among them. Kate sat with her spine stiff as voices whispered behind her. She could make out the gist of the conversation. Complaints mostly about where she was sitting. Kate should not be in the family row, no matter what her expectant state. Alain had placed her where a wife should sit, which was in poor taste to her mind. He was going too far in flaunting her to all in church. She was not his wife and knew that she never could be, not unless her business took a sudden climb and she amassed a great amount of wealth.

By sitting her beside him, he was placing her above others, something she'd not expected him to do. Kate didn't think it was a conscious decision he'd made, but one that had come about gradually until how he treated her was natural to him. That consideration he'd shown her in the beginning had become habit to him, something he didn't even think about.

"Hold your tongues or I dare say you'll find them cut out of your heads," Fawkes' smooth baritone drawled out just loud enough for the grumblers to hear, yet not loud enough for Alain to take notice. "It's not anyone's place to question our lord Adhemar."

"He goes too far," came a hissed reply.

"He goes as far as he wishes and if you keep up this talk, then I'll be the one to cut out your tongues."

There was a strange comfort in having the swordmaster standing up for her. He reminded Kate of Will. She sighed. While it was pleasant to have him as a sort of reminder of one friend she'd left behind, it also pained her. With Christiana gone, she was once more lonely. She'd enjoyed having another woman to talk with and had become used to the company. True, she could easily speak frankly with Lady Isobelle, but that one had set herself to the task of thoroughly confusing Kate of late.

She glanced around Alain at the woman. The lady would spend an entire conversation giving voice to her belief that her son had fallen at Kate's feet in the throes of a full romantic surrender and would marry her if he could figure out a way around the class restriction. Never mind that Kate had repeatedly told Isobelle that she planned to never marry again, as it would mean giving up a business she loved.

Not that I've been able to work it like I want, she thought with a dark glance at Alain's handsome profile. He still refused to let her put in a full day's work, which was a rule she was chafing under. She didn't like being restricted. In fact, if there was a single thing she resented about being here, it was that. Kate was not a woman of leisure and could never be such a creature. She'd worked for as long as she could remember.

Her thoughts returned to Isobelle. After such a conversation, she'd then sit in the Great Hall and read letters out loud to Alain. Letters regarding young women. She'd sit there and read the choice bits of where the land the girl came with was in relation to Adhemar lands and then remark how the monies a girl brought would greatly increase the coffers. Occasionally, there'd be a sketch of the girl included and she'd comment on it, wondering if the girl had 'child-bearing hips' or an 'adequate bosom'. She'd shove letters under Alain's nose and loudly proclaim her preferences among the current batch of choices.

Alain, for the most part, ignored her, his only indication he heard her being a daily steady tightening of his lips and a narrowing of his eyes. He would make a show of putting his arm about Kate and escorting her to the master's chambers when they retired.

Isobelle was undaunted. She daily told Kate one thing and behaved in a way that made those words false. Kate had thought the woman liked her, but supposed that the lure of legitimate heirs for Alain spoke louder than a warm regard for his favorite woman. It made sense, yet still hurt a bit more each time Isobelle read a letter out loud.

Kate began once more to let her thoughts tread the path of the future. When Alain married, Kate could likely expect censure from the bride. After all, the sort of woman he would have to wife would have similar values as he, yes? Would hold similar views as a whole? Kate was a peasant by class and that's how she would be viewed by the new lady of the manor. In the event of his marriage, she would find this place unwelcome and would need to retreat. She imagined Alain would give her a tiny cottage somewhere on the property in that case. He wanted her to not talk of leaving, so she'd simply imagine a nice little cottage when the day came.

She hoped that day was far off. Imagining it, gave her a desperate sensation in her breast and a sick trembling in her stomach.

The mass was long and tedious. The priest, after taking one look at her sitting with Alain, had seemed determined to make the household spend the entire day in the chapel. His sermon spoke of hellfire for sinners and pity for weak-willed women. She'd been careful not to roll her eyes at that. She did not think of herself as weak-willed.

The afternoon progressed pleasantly. A hunting party was established, Lady Isobelle and Kate joining them. They were successful and the rest of the day was spent in good humor and lively spirits, Alain attempting to coax Kate into a game of chess. She hated playing chess with him. He let her think she was winning and then pounced. Much like real life. _Too much _like real life. He always had to be the victor. It was simply the man he was.

The household settled down after the evening meal and Kate was startled when Lady Isobelle's voice rang out loud and clear.

"You should look at this, Alain. She comes with quite a bit of land. It's in a --"

Alain slammed the book he'd been about to read to those gathered around him onto the nearby table with a snarl. He fixed his mother with a glare, as though daring her to continue.

She returned the glare with a calm stare. "As I was saying, this land," she tapped the letter with a finger, "is in a fertile region. The fields have a good, consistent yield, this says."

"Mother." The one word was like a whip cracking in the air. Silence descended upon the Hall.

Isobelle went on, ignoring the warning in the word. "Or this one. Little land, but monetary wealth." She squinted at a piece of parchment. "Though by this sketch of her, your horse is far handsomer."

"Desist at once." A red flush spread up over his face.

"Really, Alain. You're not getting any _younger_ and while illegitimate children _are_ proof of virility, you should have a legitimate heir to leave this fortune to. You know how to accomplish that, I trust?"

It was clear that Alain's gentle mother harbored within her the same able cutting manner he held when she wished. Perhaps he'd even inherited the ability from her to begin with. All Kate could do was stare at the woman.

Without another word, Alain strode from the room, the outer door slamming behind him. He didn't reappear in the Hall, nor did he come to bed. When Kate woke in the morning, the sheets beside her were icy cold and she was greeted with news that Count Adhemar had taken a horse and gone out the night before. He'd not told any where he intended to go or how long he'd be.

Kate kept to herself for a week, trying to think positively about his flight from the manor, but when another week passed with still no word, she began to wonder if the worst was in progress. He'd gone to find a bride and make his mother quite harping at him. This conclusion would not leave her mind and it was after many hours of heavy thoughts that she decided she could not bear to see him return with another woman.

Those who'd been upset with her placement above so many in the household were relentless in their taunts. Normally, Kate could ignore them, shrug off the insults and sly remarks, yet now she wondered if maybe they were right. Her time here was done.

She put her hands on her belly, stretched the cloth tight about that slight, telling bulge, and decided on a course of action. Why wait for Alain to return with a bride on his arm? Her resolve to stay no matter what slipped away under doubts and hurt feelings and Kate packed her bag. Fawkes caught her at the back gate and tried to dissuade her. Unsuccessful, he begged her to at least wait until he could tell Lady Isobelle where they were going and that he'd be escorting her. Kate agreed. As soon as he disappeared around the corner of the manor, Kate mounted the horse she'd taken from the stables and set out. She took an indirect route north and Fawkes did not appear behind her.

She was not proud of deceiving him. On the contrary, she was more than a bit ashamed of herself for doing so. He'd been a decent friend there and would consider her leaving after giving her word to wait for him a betrayal. She hated deceiving a friend even in circumstances as these.

Kate rode until morning, when exhaustion claimed her and she had to rest.

* * *

Damn her for lying, Fawkes thought, glimpsing the rider going away from the manor through Lady Isobelle's window. Damn _him_, he then thought of his lord Adhemar. He'd have thought the man would know better than to leave Kate at the mercy of those who disliked her. He should know that his actions with her had made her disliked to begin with. He hadn't though. For once in his life, Alain Adhemar had not thought something through with military precision and Kate had fled.

"Where did he go," he demanded of the Lady Isobelle. She did not chide him for disrespect. No, the woman was too upset at the news of Kate's flight. Her shaking hands were pressed to her mouth and she was pale as the bleached linen she'd set up to embroider.

"What have I done," she murmured, staring up at him with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I never meant for her to go."

"My lady, it's extremely important that I find him immediately. He has to know of Kate's leaving and the reason for it. I'll not have him jumping to conclusions like she's done."

"I should have told her, but I thought she'd see through it in a second and understand." Isobelle shook her head and Fawkes resisted the urge to shake her.

"My lady," he said testily.

She composed herself with difficulty. "I've been wanting Alain to settle this once and for all, to do something to make their arrangement permanent, Fawkes. I like Kate. She's the sort of woman he needs; one who will fight him when he's wrong and love him so those hard edges soften just a bit." She swallowed. "He's gone to King Charles I believe, to get a royal decree allowing him to declare all children Kate bears him to be legitimate heirs. He can't marry her, so that's as close as he'll get to it. I goaded him, trying to get him to finally ride out and do it. He'd been stalling, putting it off...."

Fawkes nodded. "Send a rider to Lady Elizabeth's. Tell him to ride straight through. Have Christiana informed of what went on here and what my lord left to do. If Kate arrives there, they are to keep her there until either I or my lord arrives. Send another rider to Bordeaux to see Prince Edward -- if he is there -- or Princess Joan. Ask for the whereabouts of William Thatcher and dispatch a message to him the same as Christiana. I suspect Kate will head directly for her friends. She's hurt emotionally and she'll want friends about her."

"This is all my fault. I've been stupid in my plotting." Lady Isobelle bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry Fawkes."

"I'm going after my lord." With a curt bow in her direction, Fawkes left to prepare for his journey.

* * *

Geoffrey Chaucer relished his job. He was back in the swing of things, performing his diplomatic duties with relish. He was leaving in the morning to return briefly to London and was looking forward to having some time with Philippa. As usual, he was being pressed into double duty and was supposed to take a letter to London with him and deliver it. Princess Joan had requested a brief meeting with him in regards to the letter.

He went to his meeting with the Princess and returned to his room thoughtful, holding a roll of parchment sealed with the Adhemar crest. How very interesting. Who in the Adhemar household was writing a letter to Will?

It only took Geoff a moment to rationalize that he'd have to open it anyway to read it to Will, so he might as well go ahead and read it. There was only a slight pricking of his conscience at this. Will would understand, he decided.

The contents of the letter caused a gentle sweat to break out on his brow.

Dear God...._Kate_. And Adhemar.

Hurriedly, Geoff gathered only those things he needed to take with him and headed for the stables. He had to find Will.

* * *

Kate just missed Will, Roland and Christiana. She'd made her way towards Lady Elizabeth's and been told by that one that the trio had just left. However, if she cared to wait, Wat would return soon with the hunting party and she could speak with him. The Lady Elizabeth made her feel welcome. Kate accepted the hospitality, taking a much appreciated bath and enjoying a good hot meal.

She was waiting when Wat returned and his bear hug of greeting brought tears to her eyes. He looked at her as though he couldn't believe he was seeing her there before him and he kept staring at her belly, though she knew her dress hid the pregnant curve rather well.

The lady left them alone, or as alone as they could be in the busy manor.

"You're staring, Wat." Kate crossed her arms.

He nodded. "You're pregnant Kate." A humorless smile turned his lips. "By Count Adhemar."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to have that conversation with you. I've had it with Christiana and I'll not keep going over old ground. What's done is done. I'm alive and I'm healthy. Does it really matter?"

"Yes. You can't..." He paused, then tried again. "You've got a life you're going to be responsible for in a few months, Kate."

"Your point?" She knew his point, but wanted to hear him say it.

"Aww hell." He ran a hand through his hair. "Christiana said he was taking care of you, treating you well." When she didn't reply, he put his hands on his hips and glanced about them. "Where do you want to go?"

"Away," she said simply.

"I thought you'd fallen for him. It's what Christiana thought."

"I did. That's why I can't watch him with another woman."

Wat thought that through, then nodded. "Will's going to meet Jocelyn in London, then set up house. We could go there for a bit, then move on."

After a moment, it occurred to her what he was offering with that 'we' and Kate shook her head. "No, Wat. Just escort me there. You don't need to do anything more. It's sweet of you to offer, but I can't keep you with me."

The next morning, they rode out together, giving a cordial greeting to the messenger they passed just down the road. He didn't return the greeting and they decided he'd been in far too much of a hurry to observe niceties.

* * *

It was a surprise to Alain when Fawkes arrived at the court searching for him. His mission had been accomplished and he had his contacts through Kit Guin to thank for being able to get a private audience with Charles. Somehow, he'd managed to explain the situation in a way that had the man nodding in understanding. Alain was well aware that royal whim was the only reason his plea had been granted. If he'd seen Charles on another day, he might have been denied. As it was, a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was ready to return home and give Kate the good news. He knew she'd been worried about the need for him to marry and this, in his opinion, solved the problem neatly. Their children would be considered legitimate and he didn't need to marry. He'd not have to deal with a wife, which came with a different set of rules as a mistress did. There were advantages for Kate as well. She could keep her business and enjoy her position in his household. His mother liked her and his family had accepted her. As far as he was concerned, it was all settled and they could begin the business of providing heirs at regular intervals.

Therefore, the news Fawkes brought floored him.

"Where has she gone?" He made mental notes to demand apologies from all those in the manor who'd insulted her and was well on the way for rationalizing the flogging of the lot when Fawkes shook his head.

"I don't know. We sent riders to Bordeaux and to Lady Elizabeth's. I'd hoped Christiana was still at your sister's and the two could keep her there, but also thought it wise to find Sir Thatcher in case Kate went searching for him."

Alain nodded, wondering if Kate would even bother with Elizabeth's. Then again, she'd have no idea where to find Thatcher and if Christiana was still at Elizabeth's, the woman might shed some light on his location. "We'll go to Elizabeth's."

But Elizabeth's did not yield them Kate. The rider bearing Fawkes' message had ridden in just as Kate rode out to London. Elizabeth was upset over this and Alain found himself comforting her. She sat with him through the night and told him about the past months and what had occurred. She mentioned how William Thatcher had ridden there with Kit to save her and even sought to protect Alain's neck from Vachel with the battle plans. She mentioned how Thatcher and his men thought of Kate like a sister and that they would protect her like Alain protected his family. Lastly, she told him where Lady Jocelyn was staying in London and which house Kit had given them.

Alain and Fawkes set out at dawn, neither having had much sleep at all. They rode hard to reach London, though Fawkes kept remarking that it'd do his lord no good to fall exhausted at Kate's feet when they _did_ find her.

Only when London was in sight, did Alain allow himself to relax. He would find Kate.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

* * *

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Twenty-two

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

* * *

Upon seeing London again, memories of the last time she'd been there began to surface. To Kate, they seemed a lifetime ago. She recalled the parade from tournament, then later memories more pertinent to her situation. On their way to Geoff's home, they even had to pass the inn where she'd spent the night with Alain Adhemar. Kate swallowed hard and blamed the baby for her sudden weepy tendency. As they went by the inn, she glanced up at the second story. The window there on the right was the one from his room....

Wat was good company, as she remembered him, keeping her entertained and in decent spirits, though at times, she detected an air of disapproval from him. He never spoke any more about it though. In fact, he treated her as though she wasn't pregnant at all. He did not make considerations for her 'delicate' condition unless she asked for them. It was lovely. To him, she was just 'Kate', not 'pregnant Kate' or 'Adhemar's Kate', but simply herself. She could have kissed him.

She didn't, of course.

They reached Geoff's house and spent long enough there to find that Will had already gone. Germaine told them where. By the time they were able to stop traveling, Kate was glad for it. She'd had enough of horses for the time being.

She was greeted with hugs from all and could not seem to stop crying. Every kind word brought a fresh rush of tears. Will carried her to a bedroom and from there, Jocelyn and Christiana took over. They cared for her and pampered her and Kate finally was able to rest.

* * *

The life of a free man did not come easily to Germaine. It was difficult, he found, to make decisions for himself. He was so used to having arrangements all made for him by his lord that he -- in all honesty -- did not know what to do with himself.

His instinctual determination to serve was a source of great vexation to the Lady Jocelyn and she'd set herself to teaching him how to decide matters for himself. Germaine had appreciated her efforts, yet began to yearn for the safe familiarity of service.

Therein lay the problem.

He, like Kate, could not go back to the place he'd started. He regretted his impulsive decision to leave. However, he was still walking about free, so he'd simply have to make the best of where he'd placed himself. He'd have to grow and adapt to suit this new life he'd forced himself into.

Sir William, Roland and Christiana arrived at the Chaucer residence and the reunion was a merry one until the question of Wat's whereabouts was brought up. Wat had elected to stay behind at the Guin manor, something that the three travelers were not happy about. He'd decided he'd rather be there on the off-chance that Kate should send for Christiana. He'd go to her aid in that instance. He'd insisted that Kate needed someone closer than a long journey away.

The Lady Jocelyn was excited by the prospect of a partially furnished house and demanded they set out as soon as humanly possible to view their new home. The group left after only a few days and Germaine remained with Philippa Chaucer. He liked the woman. She gave him enough to do that he felt reasonably welcome and comfortable in her household.

Kate and Wat arrived only hours after Will's party set out. They too did not stay long and Philippa remarked that she'd not had such a lively house in months. Germaine elected not to go with them. He liked the excitement of London and rather thought that he'd settle in a city eventually just to have the constant bustle of daily life about him. Growing up and living at the Adhemar home, he'd been used to a whirlwind of activity the siblings swept him into and later, the constant activity of Count Adhemar. He didn't like a slower pace.

A week after all the guests departed, an extremely agitated man burst into the house calling for Philippa. He stalked past Germaine and paced as he waited for her. For once, she was not on duty with the Queen and she came running at the summons.

"Geoff! I didn't expect you back so soon!" Her hug of greeting nearly toppled the man over.

"I must speak to Lady Jocelyn immediately." Geoff eased Philippa's arms from him.

"Well Geoff, she's not here." Philippa drew him back into the kitchen, Germaine following. A cup of wine was pressed into Geoff's hands and she urged him to drink. "Will came and they left for their house. Apparently, this man Will went to help was extremely grateful for his services --"

"Have you directions, my love?" He interrupted her, wiping his mouth with one hand and setting the cup down.

She nodded. "Of course."

Germaine trailed Geoff back into the front hall while Philippa went in search of the directions she'd written out. "May I be of help in any way," he inquired in a hushed voice that was nearly a whisper.

The man turned, gave him a long, measuring stare and crossed his arms. "You can begin by telling me how Kate happened to end up at Adhemar's home and you in mine. What sort of treachery did you perpetrate against her? I know the two of you left London together."

Germaine returned the stare. "Allow me to ride with you and I shall explain all. I assure you though, no treachery was involved."

Philippa returned, handing Geoff a roll of parchment. "It's not far. It shouldn't take too long to reach them."

"Thank you." Geoff kissed his wife, then went out the door. He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Come on then. I don't have the entire day to spend waiting for you."

Germaine went.

* * *

Alain Adhemar hated London for one reason and one reason alone: it was the place of his humiliating defeat at the joust. He hated having to traverse the streets once more, yet the thought of Kate kept him pressing forward. She was worth being in this place again. They found the house of Philippa Chaucer with relative ease and Fawkes opted to wait with their mounts while Alain collected Kate.

He was shown into the house by a young woman and asked to wait. It took far too long, in his opinion, for the mistress of the house to come out to him. She was pretty, he decided, with dark hair piled haphazardly on her head and eyes that held both intelligence and humor. She gave him a polite smile and a nod.

"Count Adhemar, my maid said your name was?"

"Yes."

"What can I do for you, Count?"

He studied her, decided that charm would work well with her. "I'm searching for a woman named Kate. I was told she came here looking for Sir William Thatcher. It's of utmost importance that I find her."

The woman raised her brows. "Ahh, Kate."

Though he waited, she did not elaborate. "Is she here," he asked bluntly.

She shook her head. "No. She left some time ago."

Silence. He cursed inwardly. This woman did not seem inclined to give any more information than she had to. "Where did she go?" He'd try the house Elizabeth had told him of next, unless this woman gave him another place to look.

She crossed her arms, looked him up and down. "I've heard of you, Count, from several sources. Give me a single good reason why I should tell you where Kate went."

Alain narrowed his eyes at her. "She carries my child."

"Another."

"Oh, that's not a good enough reason?"

"You could have raped her. I wouldn't want to put her back in jeopardy."

The uncomfortable feeling surfaced that she was laughing at him in some way. Alain frowned. "William Thatcher was here, as were his wife and servants. I heard of their plans to come here from a reliable source. No doubt you heard of me from them and if Kate was indeed here, then you must have heard some of what she had to say. I did not rape her, not that it's your business to begin with. She is not, nor ever will be, in jeopardy from me."

The speech seemed to satisfy her and she nodded. "There's a tiny manor to the north that rests on Guin lands. Those lands and the manor have been deeded to Sir William. She goes there, but I'm not certain how long she intends to stay."

Alain left.

* * *

The manor Will had been given was much smaller than the Adhemar home and Kate decided she liked the smaller rooms. There was a coziness to the entire house that appealed to her. She was happy to see that Will had gathered her tools and stored them, though she did not take them out to work. Kate could not bring herself to begin.

This place, as much as she wanted it to be, was not her home. She couldn't make it her home. She kept thinking that she never should have left Alain's house to begin with. Even if he did bring a wife back from wherever it was he'd gone, she couldn't stay away.

It was late one night that she found herself alone in the Great Hall with Will. He came to sit beside her before the fire, setting a plate with pastries on her lap.

"Here. I know you like these, so I hid a plate from Wat."

She gave him a grateful smile and nibbled on one of the sweets. It was very good and she wondered if Wat had fallen for the cook yet. He'd adore a woman who could bake something as heavenly as this. "Good home cooking," she said a bit sadly. She'd claimed to miss plain food at Alain's, pastries like this, but she'd become used to the fancier foods he liked on his table. Kate set the pastry aside, half eaten.

"Not to your liking?"

"It's good, but I'm not really hungry."

He leaned back on his hands, regarding the low burning fire with a concentration that indicated he was thinking on some weighty subject. Finally, he glanced at her. "Were you happy, Kate? I mean truly, not in a superficial sense."

She shrugged. "What is happiness?"

"That's not an answer. That's..._avoiding_ the question."

His gaze, as always, was kind and Kate groaned. "God Will, don't make me think it out."

"Why not? You're not happy here, that's for sure. You make the motions, but your smiles are not the glad ones you once had in our company. Something is missing for you now. I want your happiness Kate, and while I admit I've mixed feelings about you with Adhemar, I'll not stop you from returning to him if it will put the light back in your eyes."

Kate shook her head. "I can't go back and yes, I do want to now."

"Why can't you? You've not said one word to any of us why you left so suddenly. The last we all heard was when Christiana arrived saying you loved Adhemar and he, apparently, had feelings for you in return."

"Because he went to get himself a wife!" Kate got to her feet and began to pace. "I can't go back and see some smug noblewoman there beside him at the table and in the bed I _shared_ with him! I can't and I have to! I promised him I'd stay and now I've broken that promise. I broke a promise to Fawkes and...." She stopped pacing. "Will, I've never had so many people taunt me about something I'd no control over. Those people came at me the second he was gone. I heard sly little digs every time I left the bedchamber. I'd never had a problem ignoring them before, yet with him gone, every word made sense. Every time it was hinted he left to find a wife, I could not dispute it. He didn't tell me where he was going or why he was leaving."

He also got to his feet, coming to her and embracing her. A soothing hand swept along her back. "Who told you for certain that he was going to find a wife? He never spoke the intent to you at any time?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Kate remained silent until Will stepped back. Then, she stared up at him. "His mother hinted, but she also said he'd marry me if he could figure out how."

"She hinted. Did _she_ say that's where he went?"

"Well no." Kate moved away, crossing her arms. "No one said with absolute certainty. No one seemed to know. He took a horse and left right after we ate that night. He stalked from the hall and was gone."

Will's hands grasped her shoulders, turned her and gave her a little shake. "Kate, think. Who was it told you he was going on that errand? You said no one knew where he went, so how could they know the reason?" Exasperation played upon his face. "Come on Kate. You've never been this slow on the uptake _ever_ that I recall."

His meaning became clear and she wrenched away. "You think I left for no reason." The look he gave her challenged her to dispute his reasoning. "You think I jumped to a conclusion based on...."

"Hearsay and rumor and jealousy. Yes, Kate, I think you did. I think you were so emotionally caught up that you were not capable of thinking clearly enough to make a rational decision." He licked his lips. "I think you did the worst thing you could have in that situation. You've admitted to having a friend or two there, casual true, but still friends. Shouldn't you have gone to them and talked out the problem?"

She'd once told Alain that there were consequences and now more consequences hit her over the head. He was going to be furious with her for leaving. "No. No, no, no...." She waved her hands in the air in front of her.

Will reached out for her, steadying her. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but...." He fixed an authoritative stare at her. "Kate, you have to go back there. If there's a chance you were deliberately deceived by those people, then you must return, even if it's only to explain to him why you left."

"I know." Her voice was barely even a whisper and Kate gently pushed his hands from her arms and went upstairs to her room.

* * *

The morning found a shouting match in the Hall. Geoffrey Chaucer and Jocelyn were settling their differences on a matter that none but the two seemed to completely understand. They jumped back and forth in their argument, adding in speculation and examples until it made onlookers dizzy to contemplate. The two were well-matched in their debate and made no headway in convincing the other of their opinion.

Germaine, his arms folded over his chest, watched Kate make her way slowly down the stairs. She'd let her hair flow free about her shoulders instead of pulling it back and there was a healthy glow about her that proclaimed, at least to him, her expectant state. Kate, he decided, was beautiful in pregnancy and he wondered if Count Adhemar thought so as well. He must, he thought. If he's gone to King Charles, he must consider Kate beautiful in many ways.

She stood listening to each as they yelled and finally put herself between the two, shoving them apart. "Will you please stop shouting? For heaven's sake quit airing this to all. The entire household does not need to know where each of you stood on an issue months old."

Jocelyn nodded, still fixing Geoff with an angry glare. He glared right back, then turned concerned eyes to Kate. "You _are_ well then. Lord, Kate, I'd not believed the letter."

"What letter?"

"The one I have here." He withdrew a parchment from under his long coat. All gathered around him save Germaine, and he unrolled it, handing it to Jocelyn. "The one that says Count Adhemar went to King Charles to have a decree issued allowing all children you bear him to be considered legal heirs to the Adhemar wealth."

Jocelyn gasped, pressing one hand to her throat. "He's right." Her expression turned to disbelief.

"I can read, you know," he snapped at her.

"Oh really, Geoffrey? I'd not noticed," she returned.

"Stop." Kate walked a few paces away. "Just stop it, both of you." She glanced at Germaine, then turned to Will. "He didn't go to...." A horrible groan came from her lips. "You were right and I was wrong. I have to go back there."

"I could have been wrong," Will replied.

"You weren't though."

Jocelyn perked up. "Right about what?"

"Never mind," the two answered in unison.

Germaine smiled.

Kate eschewed the idea of an escort. She was perfectly capable of taking herself back to the manor all by herself and made no bones about it. She behaved as though she was ready to run outside and climb back on a horse to make yet another exhausting journey.

Finally, after much fast talking on Wat's account, they managed to convince her she needed to wait until afternoon before leaving. Observing her, Germaine thought she needed much longer than a few days to recover from the trip she'd already had. She often, over the morning hours, closed her eyes and sagged back in her chair, or shifted uncomfortably. No, this would not do. Kate should not leave for a bit longer.

Just before noon, he asked Geoff to help him convince Kate to remain there for a longer period of time. The three met outside for a stroll in the courtyard. Kate walked slowly between them, pausing every now and then to rub at her lower back with one hand. There was silence for a few minutes.

"What do you both want," Kate asked, glancing at each of them in turn.

Geoff took a stab at the question. "We're concerned for you. You've been on a long journey and frankly, you look worn out. I hardly think you'd make the return journey without falling ill along the way or immediately upon arrival."

"Send a messenger in your stead, explain matters and stay here for a week or two to regain your full strength." Germaine stopped walking. "I know you're a physically strong woman, but I've also witnessed women just as strong as you die from illness that might have been avoided had they not traveled long while already exhausted. I would not want to chance your life."

"Nor I." Geoff shook his head. "I'll stick my own neck out every chance I get, but Kate, I don't want to see you do the same."

She nodded, casually reached out and took one of each of their hands and placed them on her belly. Beneath his palm, Germaine felt a kick. "Feel that? This child never would kick when he was around. Stubborn, and completely true to his father. I want to get home so he can feel it and enjoy it."

"Stubbornness is not a trait he alone can claim, Kate. You've your share of it as well." Geoff lifted his hand away. "Please stay. A few days more, at least. If you'll not consider a week or two, then consider two or three days. Each hour you rest improves your health."

"My lord Adhemar would not be angry at your resting to keep yourself and the child healthy. I'm sure of it. Send a messenger and rest."

The next hour was spent going over their arguments with her time after time until she stopped them in front of the manor doors, tossing up her hands in defeat. "Fine! Fine! I'll send a messenger and stay a few days. Just don't keep on at me. I've a headache now." She retreated into the manor and, grinning at each other, they followed.

"I should go back as well," Germaine mentioned as he and Geoff crossed the hall to Will, Jocelyn and Wat. "I don't think I'm the sort of man that can be free. I'm not able to do for myself with ease. You made it look so effortless, Sir Will. Deceptively so."

"Nothing says you need to go back." Geoff glanced around, shrugged. "As fun as my argument with Lady Jocelyn was this morning, I've neglected my duties for personal reasons and cannot stay to continue it, though I will promise to return at a later date to do so. I could use a traveling companion, Germaine. Someone to run errands for me while I run King's errands. Someone to write my letters when I do not have the time to do so."

Germaine was startled by the offer, though pleased by it all the same. It was something to consider. "Well, I don't know what to say."

"You can keep me on the straight and narrow path. Philippa would be pleased at that."

"Nothing keeps _you_ out of trouble," Wat remarked.

"Think about it, Germaine. If we're lucky, we might get sent to Italy. The women there rival all the ladies here for beauty. Tempting, yes? Shall we set out on a grand adventure?"

Germaine smiled. Why not? It was partly because of this man that he'd set out for freedom. Life wandering about the world with Geoffrey Chaucer would not be dull. In fact, he rather thought the excitement he wanted would be more than fulfilled. He straightened his back with dignity and nodded. "Why not? I accept the offer of employ."

Delight painted Geoff's features. "Excellent, good man! Regretfully, we can't stay longer and visit, so let us be off."

"You're off all right." Lady Jocelyn smiled sweetly. "Remember your promise to return, Geoffrey."

"Of course, my lady."

Germaine had little with him that needed packing, so he was ready in moments.

As Germaine and Geoff left the hall, all heard Geoff ask, "So, Germaine, tell me...how do you feel about wagering?"

* * *

"Doesn't it bother you?"

The question stopped Kate as she began unfastening her surcoat in preparation for a well earned nap. She sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated Jocelyn's question. Her answer depended largely on what the woman was referring to. Did she mean being pregnant? Or was she referring to Geoff's opinion? Perhaps there was some other matter Jocelyn wondered if Kate was bothered by?

Jocelyn brought a brush over to her and climbed onto the bed behind her, applying the brush to Kate's hair in slow strokes. "Geoff's view, I mean. To say that he felt you should have gone back to Adhemar and stayed there until --"

"No. I'm not bothered by it."

"Why ever not?" Jocelyn kept brushing, but the strokes slowed.

Kate shrugged. "Honestly? I've much better things to consider than the workings of Geoffrey Chaucer's mind. I simply don't know enough about how his opinion was formed. There could be something in his past that brought his conclusion about so that, to him, it makes perfect sense." She slid one hand across her belly, soothing the gentle kicking of the baby inside. "Besides, it's all worked out in the end, so there's no point in revisiting a comment he made in a heated moment."

"How has it worked out?" Jocelyn moved to sit beside her.

She thought for a moment on how to explain her own reasoning. "Well, if I had not run from him in the first place, Alain would not have been angered. He'd not have followed me and taken me to his home. The treachery of Helene would not have been found out and Helene would have successfully poisoned his mother. Lady Isobelle would be dead."

Jocelyn leaned back on her hands, concentration on her face. "What else?"

"Will went with Kit Guin on the promise that if he helped Guin, then the man would help Will find me and rescue me if I needed it, yes?"

"Mm-hmm."

"If I'd not run, Will would not have needed to make such a bargain with Guin. He might have not gone with Guin at all and therefore, I can think of several things that could have occurred in that case. You'd not have this house as payment for a job well done. Lady Elizabeth, Alain's sister, might be dead by her husband's hand. Kit Guin might be dead as well and Alain and all in his manor might be dead. Roland would not have had a job offer from Lady Elizabeth." She warmed to her ideas, ticking them off with her fingers. "Christiana would not have realized the depth of her feelings for Roland. Germaine would not be free and have left under Geoff's employ and I would not have the pleasure of this baby."

"Perhaps," Jocelyn conceded. "Now, what of those you said taunted you? Was that good as well?"

Kate turned her head to stare at her. Jocelyn was determined to find the bad in it all. She'd not thought Jocelyn the sort of gloomy person who saw problems at every turn, not after her optimism during tournament. "Yes," she replied. "There's good in that too. I had to leave to realize that the home I've yearned to return to, was right there where I was. Life isn't easy, Jocelyn. There are always going to be people who dislike you. I shouldn't have let their barbs dig in and change what I knew was certain. I did though, and now must pay the price for foolishness."

There was a shift in Jocelyn's expression, subtle and barely there. "You're really going back to him, then?"

"This time, I have to. Running away honestly wasn't the option I thought it to be. I can't run away from this."

The woman took her hand, clasped it in a gesture that Kate realized meant support. "He'll be angry with you for leaving. Can you handle him alone? You could wait here for him to come and we'll be a buffer for you against his temper."

A generous offer, yet one Kate couldn't accept. She'd already sent the letter -- written by Christiana -- giving her intent to remain here a week then begin riding back. "I'm sorry Jocelyn. I can't stay. This has to be done at home."

Home. That was indeed what the manor had become for her. She knew the hallways and grounds backwards and forwards and, despite all, was comfortable there. If she stayed here, she'd be comfortable for awhile, but without Alain, there'd quickly be a sense of part of her being missing.

Jocelyn sighed, released her hand. "Christiana was right then. You _do_ love him." Her manner spoke of confusion. "I confess I don't understand it. In my mind, he's a horrible, bullying, cheating wretch of a man only concerned with his own desires."

Laughter welled up in Kate and she gave in to the urge. "He is all that. He's also childish and spoiled. However, Jocelyn, he's _my _horrible, bullying, cheating, childish and spoiled wretch. Alain isn't always those things. He's charming, kind and generous when the mood strikes him. He can be a shrewd businessman and an excellent soldier. He's also completely devoted to his mother. When she was ill, he barely left her bedside."

"Well, I suppose that's something." Jocelyn managed a small smile. "I guess I don't have to understand it, do I? You're the one who has to deal with him and it's by your own choice." She got up and moved to the door. "Have a good sleep, Kate. I'll see you later."

Kate settled down for her nap.

* * *

Out of all in the Thatcher household who could greet him, Alain had not expected the Lady Jocelyn to come forth. She crossed the courtyard to him and he thought that her beauty now paled in comparison to his Kate.

"How dare you," she said, anger shadowing her features.

"How dare I what," he replied, fixing her with a cool stare. The words she wanted to say did not seem to be forming upon her tongue and the lady simply gasped in outrage. Alain snorted. "Well, woman, if you cannot put voice to how I have dared, then run along and inform Sir William that he and I have business to discuss."

"I'm no servant to order about," she began, finding her voice at last. "You dared to leave Kate among people who've no liking for her at all. That's not the mark of a man who proposes to care for her."

"They'll be dealt with."

"How?"

"It's not your business to ask."

The front door of the manor slammed, Christiana hurrying forward to them. Alain dismounted, began leading his horse to meet her. Fawkes remained by the gate. "I see you returned to your lady safely, Christiana."

She didn't look ashamed of herself, raising her chin a notch. "My lord. Lady Elizabeth found she did not need me after all."

"Of course she did. Fetch Sir William, hmm?"

Christiana glanced at Jocelyn. "You're here for Kate, I imagine."

"Yes."

"Then wouldn't you rather I take you to her?" The woman turned her back before he could see her expression. "She's only fallen asleep a bit ago. I'm sure she won't mind if you wake her."

Alain followed Christiana into the manor, leaving his horse for Fawkes to attend.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

Title: Wooing Kate

Chapter: Twenty-three

Author: Kasey

Email: kasey8473yahoo.com

Summary: Adhemar seduces a drunken Kate. She flees.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Feedback: Questions? Comments? Colorful metaphors?

Notes: 'Churching' was a ceremony where a woman was prepared to return to church after giving birth. Directly after having a baby, a woman was considered unclean and not fit to have contact with holy water.

Well, what a long road you - faithful readers - and I have traveled together. I thank all who have given reviews and who may review in the future. This story has been fun to write, and I hope, fun to read. -- _Kasey_

_

* * *

_

She was asleep on her side, facing away from him, tucked under a heavy layer of blankets. Alain crossed to her. She had a pillow laid out beside her, her arm thrown across it. It was the same position she took in bed with him, her head on his shoulder and arm across his chest. He began to unbutton his jacket, pausing when he heard Christiana's voice. Upon seeing Kate, he'd promptly forgotten the maid was still in the doorway.

"Would you like a bath, my lord? She'll sleep awhile. She takes a long nap every afternoon about this time."

"No. Later." Idly, he wondered if there was a tub in this household large enough to hold both he and Kate together. It had been a long while since he'd coaxed her into a bath with him.

When Christiana had gone, he placed the bar on the door and returned to the bed. Now there'd be no interruptions; no one bursting through the door and startling this reunion. He stripped, studying Kate as he did so. The long journey to London and then to here had undoubtedly left her exhausted, yet her beauty was not diminished in the slightest. She was still absolutely lovely in his eyes.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he peeled back the covers from her, gaze falling to her belly. A tiny satisfied smile quirked his lips. She was rounding nicely, in both belly and breast. Her curves pressed tight to the shift his mother had embroidered. It amazed him that Kate could still squeeze into it. Then again, she was not large with the child at all. He decided she'd have to put the shift away soon though, or risk splitting the seams.

Alain re-covered her and went around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers. He drew Kate against him and laid there for a long moment, still and silent, drinking in the peace that came over him in her presence. For all of her independence, she had a curious calming effect upon him. The daily banter they had shared served to relax him until he found that he was no longer bothered by things that had once irked him to a great degree.

The hurt and resentment he'd felt upon hearing she'd left had slipped away when Fawkes informed him of the people who'd taunted her. He'd been forced to admit how stupidly he'd behaved in one moment of anger with his mother. In retrospect, he should have dragged Kate along with him to see Charles. Then, she'd not have been subjected to the vipers he now knew to reside in his house. There'd be a cleansing upon their return, of that he was certain.

Why had she not come to him about it back when the first sly dig landed upon her? Why had she remained silent? Alain turned his face into Kate's hair and breathed in. Someone in the house also favored the scent of lavender, for she had the scent of it along her skin and hair, fresh and clean. Only Kate and God knew the workings of Kate's mind. Alain very much doubted that if a score or two of years -- or more -- went by, he'd learn all there was to know of her. He still knew little more than when he'd spirited her away to his home. He did not have her figured out, though he'd once smugly thought he did.

And he liked it that way.

He liked the mystery of her. He enjoyed waiting for the time when she'd reveal just a little more of herself to him. Alain even enjoyed her defiance of him. She challenged him on so many levels that he'd be hard pressed to find another woman who would tickle his mind nearly as much.

He was not angry with her. Not this time. Alain could acknowledge that he was largely at fault for her flight. She should not have gone, true, yet he could understand why she had. However, he wasn't about to admit it out loud.

Her skin was silky smooth beneath his palm and he gave Kate's shoulder a shake. "It's time to wake, Kate. Wake up, sweet."

* * *

It was lovely to wake with a warm presence along her back. Kate had grown used to waking with Alain pressed to her. She blinked, then stiffened. What the --

"It's only me." Alain was beside her, partially raised on one arm, staring calmly at her. "Nothing to worry about."

Kate shifted onto her back to look up at him. Somehow, she'd not expected him to catch up with her so quickly. She didn't know what to say, so she merely watched him. There was no anger in his eyes, no annoyance on his face. She had no idea what he was feeling or thinking.

"I chased you across two countries." A wry grin quirked his lips. "Twice now, if we count your flight from me in London months ago." One hand twitched the covers from her, then slid slowly along her stomach. "I've gone to a king about you and even braved coming to your friend Thatcher's home."

Kate licked her lips and still could find no words to say.

"There shall be no more repeats of this. If you choose to run again, I will not follow you unless you take our child with you. If you choose to leave against my wishes, I will let you go. Not the child, but you." Hazel eyes met hers. "I don't want you unwilling, Kate, and if you're unwilling, then...."

As quickly as she could, Kate eased herself into a sitting position and kissed him. She placed a hand along the back of his neck to keep him from yanking away, putting all of the feeling she had for him into that kiss and when she leaned back, he followed.

A long while later, Alain rested his cheek against her bare belly as they talked, his arm protectively about her hips and free hand holding hers.

"I was going back," she murmured. "They all refused to allow me to travel again until I'd rested. Wat stationed himself in the stables and Roland and Christiana follow me about from dawn until dusk. Then, Will and Jocelyn take over watching me." Reaching out, Kate snagged a pillow from the other side of the bed and shoved it under her head. "I had Christiana write a letter to you, explaining all and it went out a few days ago."

"We'll go home together."

There was a tickling sensation in her belly and Alain sat up quickly, putting his hand to the spot where he'd just had his cheek. The baby pushed against his palm. The expression on his face was one of such wonder that Kate laughed. "Look at you. A body would think you've no children at all."

He glanced at her. "I never said I was home those months they were pregnant. I've been at war often over the years. My mother kept me appraised of the two she knew about, but I've never....I've never had occasion to feel my own child move like that. My sister Fleur's babies, yes. She has another child every other year or so and visits as often as she can. The odds are always good that she'd be pregnant to some degree."

"I see. Well, feel your fill, if you must."

Bending, he placed a kiss to the spot. "I must," he replied.

* * *

It was amusing to Will to watch Adhemar and Kate together. He'd not ever thought to see the man behave in such a human fashion towards a peasant. There he was though. Kate was treated like the highest born of ladies and Will could not help but move closer across the small hall towards them. He could not believe his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Will," Kate asked.

He gave a half laugh, casting a wary glance at Adhemar. "You have to ask?"

Kate considered his answer, then shook her head. "No. I can guess."

Adhemar's stare was directed towards him, one of those patented appraising glances that the man specialized in. It was almost a shock to hear a courteous question come from his lips. "How did you come to help Kit Guin save both my sister and my neck?" He blinked. "Kate told me the story, but didn't know the beginning, only how it ended."

It was not an unfriendly query and Will could see no reason not to explain. He gave the abbreviated version, thinking all the while that he'd be glad when the man was no longer under his roof. He kept having the urge to glance about him in case there was an assassin present. Adhemar appeared satisfied by the response.

"Times are changing, I suppose," Adhemar remarked, taking Kate's hand in his. He leaned forward in his chair. "I won't...fight...correspondence between this household and mine. You're all dear friends to Kate and I will not begrudge her the relationship."

Will sat back, stunned. Adhemar giving in on a point? Surely the world was ending. Unconsciously, he glanced towards the windows, fully expecting to see a fiery chariot in the sky. But no, the world was not ending and Adhemar seemed rather uncomfortable for having giving his word on the matter. "We thank you."

"Kate wishes to keep contact between you. I assure you, I could care less if I ever hear any of your names again."

For Kate. Of course. "And I assure you, I understand. I too would not care to ever hear your name again."

To his surprise, Adhemar laughed, a chuckle of good humor. "You're changing as well, _William_. Learning battle techniques, making politically connected allies. I may not like you for many reasons, but if we ever are at war together...." He stood, helped Kate from her chair, then glanced over his shoulder at Will. "I'll guard your back. I don't forget debts I owe."

"There's no debt. I'd have done the same for any --"

"Close your mouth, Thatcher. Stop speaking. I pray Lady Jocelyn will teach you when to keep your mouth shut. There is a debt because I say there is one and some day, I'll repay it."

Will didn't want to have Adhemar owing him a debt, but supposed it was better than the reverse. He massaged his neck with one hand. Kate and Adhemar were leaving in the morning. The man had sent Fawkes to buy a wagon and something to cushion the bed of it with. He planned to put Kate in the back and take her to his home that way, not allowing her to ride. By the glint in her eye, Will suspected Kate would have something to say about it once they got down the road apace.

He didn't want her to go. It was her choice however, and he couldn't tell her how to live her life. If she really wanted to go back there, then he could not stop her.

She'd spent much of her time here patching her relationships with all. She'd had time to learn that Germaine had not wanted to leave her in the road and to accept his actions since as his apology for doing so. She'd told Roland that since it had all worked out, she could forgive his advice, but he should pardon her if she did not come to him for more counsel in the future. Kate had spoken with Wat about the fight they'd had that ended with her going with Adhemar in the first place. And lastly, she'd explained to them all that she loved them as family, yet like family, they should know when to step back and let her go about her own life.

Will had to respect her for smoothing over the troubled waters with ease. Not one feeling had been hurt during or after the talks she'd had with them all and their friendships were intact. He got up, intending to find Jocelyn, when he noticed Roland and Christiana in one darkened corner of the hall.

They sat together with the length of a bench separating them. By the turn of their heads, Will knew they were talking. As he watched, Christiana slid several inches towards Roland. Then Roland moved towards her. If heated words were passing their lips, there was no outward indication of temper in either. Will didn't think they were upset with each other. Indeed, he thought they were finally making up.

The two clasped hands. Slowly, as though afraid the other would move away, they leaned their heads close and kissed.

Will left them to the relative privacy of the corner they'd ensconced themselves in, a small smile on his lips.

* * *

If Will had known how right he was about Kate's plan for the wagon, he would have laughed out loud, for Kate did not even wait until they were five miles down the road before demanding she be allowed to ride.

"Just because I was sick of riding when I got here, doesn't mean I'm still sick of it."

Alain crossed his arms, fixing her with a disapproving stare. "No. I'll not have you riding the whole way and further endangering this child."

"I'm perfectly healthy," she argued.

Fawkes remained silent and Alain noticed a tiny, barely there quirk to the man's lips. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing at all, my lord." Fawkes still smiled however.

"Ride ahead of us. Your smiling at nothing is irking me." He waited until Fawkes had gone before returning his gaze to the defiant Kate. "Just because I was not angry with you for leaving does not mean you can prick my temper now."

"When can I prick your temper, then? Pray tell, is there a set time when I may do so?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Kate." She was enjoying this, he realized. The minx was enjoying their spat over the wagon.

"What?" Her expression was all innocence. Fake innocence.

Going to her, he grasped her arms, chafed the backs with his fingers. "As much as I enjoy our explosive chats, I'd rather not meet up with any thieves with you in this condition. You can argue with me as long as you like once we're home, hmm?"

Kate jerked her arms free and took her time returning to the wagon. Once there, she wiggled around and gave him an expectant glance. As he climbed up to take the reins, she remarked, "Well, what took you so long? I've been sitting here for ages waiting for you."

Turning, he grasped her neck and leaned down, planting a quick kiss to her lips. In minutes, they were following the path Fawkes had taken.

* * *

The journey was uneventful and by the time they reached home, Kate's enthusiasm for arguing over the wagon had long since dwindled. She was aching and bruised. It seemed that every bump they went over only added to her pains until she was no longer sure she had any spot on her body that did not ache in some way. Alain had done his best to keep her comfortable, telling her stories of the time he'd escorted his sister Fleur -- pregnant as usual -- to her home and had to find a midwife en route when she went into labor halfway there. He'd given the story a humorous edge, making his altercations with the midwife sound comical.

Fawkes was charged with their comfort along the road. He made certain they had meals and lodgings, though Kate and Alain often slept in the back of the wagon and Fawkes on the ground. They made decent time and were lucky not to be caught in bad weather.

Lady Isobelle greeted them, ignoring Alain and moving straight to Kate. Her now strong arms about Kate's body, she led Kate to the master's chambers. The midwife was brought and announced that she did not think Kate had much longer. She then made a disgusted noise about men insisting on moving women when the women should be in bed. Alain reminded her he could have her whipped for insolence and she quieted right down.

Kate was kept in bed, not that she minded. After all the traveling she'd done, she decided it would be a cold day in hell before she let herself be pushed in any way towards another journey in the near future. Her worries of people coming to her with the same digs they'd given before was in vain. Fawkes guarded the door and when Lady Isobelle was not with her, Alain was.

Lady Isobelle was full of news. The manor had been an exciting place since their return. The priest had been sent away and a new one, younger and in full awe of Count Adhemar, had been sent in his place.

"Just what we need," Isobelle remarked. "A priest with no backbone. Still," she amended, "He is a nice man and is not as rigid in his thinking as older clergy. He's settling in nicely and I believe he'll be in to see you this afternoon."

Kate shifted, trying to ignore the growing ache in her lower back. It seemed that every day her back would ache just below her waist. "How are Olivia, Lisette and Mary?"

"Incorrigible. Like Alain was as a child. They get away with more than I'd let them get away with." Isobelle plumped a large pillow and eased it behind Kate's back. "They're all excited about the baby, like all of us." She sat on the edge of the bed, studying Kate with concerned eyes. "Are you feeling well? You look...pained."

"My back is hurting, like it usually is anymore."

"I'll send for Cinda. It could be nothing, but better safe than sorry where childbirth is concerned."

It was not nothing. When Cinda was finally able to make her way to the manor, Kate was in labor.

* * *

Waiting was the worst thing Alain had experienced in a long time. He didn't like having to wait for anything and this was no exception. What he wanted was for the baby to slide right out and be there, but of course it did not happen that way. He spent long hours pacing the Great Hall and peering anxiously up the staircase whenever Kate screamed -- which was often as the hours of labor progressed.

The rest of the household went about business as usual, working around him. It was early in the morning of the next day when his mother appeared at the top of the stairs, a tiny squirming bundle in her arms. Alain took the steps two at a time.

"Kate," he asked.

"Fine." She set the bundle in his arms. "You've a boy, Alain."

"A boy," he repeated, elation soaring through him. Kate had given him a boy and both she and the babe were fine. Brushing by his mother, he entered the chamber.

Cinda was finishing with Kate. He waited while servants helped Kate from the bed and the sheets were changed. His mother's new maid, a girl whose name he hadn't bothered to learn yet, quickly sponged the sweat and fluids from Kate's body and helped her into a loose shift. It took an interminable amount of time in his mind before Kate was back in bed and the two of them were left alone with their son.

"Shall we name him?" He went to the side of the bed, turning the boy so that the tiny sweet face was facing her. There'd be time later for the boy to be properly swaddled. Right now, Alain wanted time with the two of them.

Kate held out her arms. Alain did not hesitate to put the babe in them. The sight she made brought a hitch to his breath. Beautiful. "He's so small." She ran a slim finger over the tiny features.

"Small?" Alain sat on the bed beside her, moving so that he could put one arm behind her. "He's the largest newborn I've seen in a long while."

"He still looks small to me."

The boy was chubby, with a tuft of black hair on his head and the redness of his skin that newborns often held. Alain could not help smiling. The features were Kate's, delicate yet strong. "Have you a name you favor?"

"James," came her quick reply. "I'd like to name him James. It was my father's name, God rest him."

Alain had no objection to the name. The name James was also in his family. "James it is." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "He'll be baptized at mass this morning and then after you're churched, we'll settle a few things in this household."

Alain had not wasted his words. As soon as Kate was churched, he gathered the household in the Great Hall and led Kate to the center of the room. He turned her about so all could see her, then put an arm about her slender shoulders. His gaze fell upon those he knew had made her hours without him here a hell. Punishment for their crime had been put off until Kate could witness that they were not going to be allowed to keep treating her in such a manner. When he spoke, he did so in a loud voice deliberately laced with arrogance.

"This woman is mine. As far as I'm concerned, she is the lady of this household. It has been brought to my attention that there are those who would push her away if they can. Any such actions towards her are punishable by the lash. She is the mother of my son and I demand the respect due that station be given to her. Come to Kate with your ills and concerns. She'll see I'm made aware of them if she cannot ease them herself."

Kate turned her body to him, whispering for him to stop and say no more.

He glanced at her, noting the flush spreading across her pale cheeks. Leaning his head down, he said in a low voice, "I won't stop. I should have done this before riding off to see Charles. This is truth Kate. I've become accustomed to you. I can no longer imagine another woman here with me."

"I'm a peasant Alain. You can't do this. You can't set me above --"

"With you, Kate, class is not everything; not the sum of who you are. With many it is, but not you. You are a...unique woman and I do not care to keep searching about for a suitable woman when I have one already beside me, peasant or no." He'd once told Thatcher that there were few exceptions in the classification of women as lower than horses or trophies. He still felt that way. As a whole, few women were worth genuine consideration. "Now be quite, woman."

Kate was an exception to the rule. She was peasant, yes and unapologetically so, but she surpassed most of that class in intelligence and beauty. A worthy companion he'd decided as time had passed.

He again raised his voice for all to hear. "I commit myself to this woman for the rest of my life." He took a strange satisfaction in the gasps of many gathered there. "To Kate I will remain faithful. I consider us wed, though the church and society will not grant us the pleasure at present. Are there any objections?"

A few hands raised and he gave a malicious little grin. "A few I spy. Out into the courtyard with your objections then. We'll see if ten lashes changes them any."

The hands fell quickly at the mention of punishment.

"Oh, no objections then? Just stretching were you? Into the courtyard anyway. Five lashes for daring to begin with."

Kate put a hand on his chest. "No. No whippings, please. They voiced an opinion, 'tis all."

Would she really show mercy to those who begrudged them happiness together? Yes, she would. Without hesitation. "Mercy is a weakness. I cannot be weak or I lose control over my household."

"Mercy," she countered, "is a gift. Give mercy once, then punish if the offense is repeated, depending upon the severity of the crime. Voicing an opinion is no real crime, Alain and you know it."

He took her hands, gently kissed her knuckles. "These people who've objected hurt you Kate. They ran you away. I can't have them thinking they can repeat the offense at all."

"So send them away. Dismiss them, but please don't hurt them over me."

Alain thought a moment, then nodded. "For you, Kate. This once." He looked at the people who'd protested. "You're all dismissed, those of you who spilled your hatred of Kate recently. Fawkes will escort you, one by one, outside the manor walls. From there, I do not care where you go, only that you do not return here. I will not be lenient to any in the future who slander Kate or make her feel less than what she is in my eyes."

Slowly, the household was allowed to return to every day duties.

* * *

Kate sat before the fire, holding her son and watching Alain.

He did not say he loved her, yet his actions made his feelings plain. He committed himself to her publicly, defying both church and society. What else would she have expected from him? It fit the pattern of him that she knew. He did as he pleased, everyone else be damned, and it pleased him to declare himself hers.

She'd once thought him too rigid in what society demanded, the sort of man who followed the societal rules to the exact letter. Not so. He'd disregarded the statute of honor in the tournament. He'd used societal whim to further himself. He firmly believed in class distinction, yet tossed it away when it got in the way of what he wanted. This man made his own rules and followed the rules of others only when he was benefited by doing so.

No, he did not say he loved her, nor did she think she'd hear that proclamation from his lips for a long while yet. He defied all for her though. He'd chased her all over two countries.

Love. Plain and simple, whether he could admit it with words or not.

Satisfaction turned Kate's lips.

It all works out in the end and this, she decided, had worked out quite well. Quite well indeed.

****

The End


End file.
